


By Your Side

by JBankai89



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Disassociation, Endgame spoilers in later chapters, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Neighbours, Omega Bucky Barnes, PTSD, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Mpreg, Past Spousal Abuse, Pets, past alcoholism, service dog, single dad bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 67,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: Bucky's life was not quite what one might consider normal. After a brief stint in the army, and a longer and much more unpleasant stint with an alcoholic, abusive mate, he moves himself and his daughter to a suburb in upstate New York.However, it all turns upside down when Bucky acquires a new neighbour, an alpha by the name of Steve Rogers.





	1. Moving In

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: First stucky fic, which I have been on-and-off working on for a while now. I hope you guys like it. :) I will be updating every two weeks, so the next update will be up March 24th.

Chapter One – Moving In

 

James Buchanan Barnes stood up from his desk chair with a soft groan, his back cracking and crunching in all the right places as he stretched. His stomach seemed to be agreeing that it was time for a break, and he stepped out of his home office in search of food.

Sadie, his beautiful five-year-old daughter, was sprawled out upon the carpet in the living room, colouring happily. She seemed to be aiming to lie in a perfect beam of late-spring sunshine, not unlike Sadie's demon incarnate, Pistachio, the chubby silver tabby that ran their little household.

It was not his daughter, nor the fat cat that had drawn Bucky's attention from his food search however, but the noise from outside. It was the loud and distinctive beeping of a large truck backing up, and when Bucky peered outside, he immediately spotted a moving van pulling into the driveway right next to theirs.

A tall, broad, blond man stood at the top of the driveway, wearing far too much beige and brown. There was a motorcycle propped up next to him, and he seemed to be shouting at the driver to stop.

“Huh,” Bucky said, watching a lithe redhead leap out of the huge truck, and as one the pair headed for the back of it, swung it open, and immediately began to tote large boxes inside.

“What's going on, Daddy?” Sadie asked from the carpet, getting up to join her father in peering out the window, her little brow pinched, but widened when she spotted the enormous vehicle. “Oh, wow! Daddy, that's a _big_ truck!”

“Yes, honey,” Bucky agreed with a warm smile, “it is.”

“How many bees could fit in there, Daddy?”

Bucky snorted; as bumblebees were here favourite animal, and so naturally it was also her favourite unit of measurement.

“I have no idea,” Bucky replied, “probably a lot. But I'm pretty sure there's no bees in there. That's a moving van; it looks like we're getting some new neighbours.”

“Oh!” Sadie chirped, and let out a little squeak of excitement as she clapped her hands together. “Can we make them a baking? I saw on TV that new houses need baking.”

Bucky laughed and nodded as he said, “sure we can, honey—what do you want to make?”

“Can we make the disaster cookies?” she asked, making Bucky laugh again as the little girl grinned widely.

“Sure, baby, we can absolutely do that.”

Bucky began to make for the kitchen, his initial plan of food for himself forgotten, when his sweet, unassuming little girl unexpectedly—and unintentionally—destroyed the pleasant atmosphere of their afternoon.

“Daddy, you forgot your arm again.”

It was spoken sweetly, a gentle reminder that her silly daddy had gotten up and left a body part behind.

That body part was lost somewhere in the desert, but he wasn't about to tell his girl _that_.

Forcing a smile, Bucky somehow managed to laugh, and headed back to his office to fetch the prosthetic. He could get by most days without putting the damn thing on, as it wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but baking with a five-year-old was _definitely_ one of those activities that required all his limbs.

Though Sadie and Bucky both referred to their cookie creation as _disaster cookies_ , they were actually quite good, assuming one was a fan of sweets. They were simple chocolate chip cookies with M&Ms and marshmallows thrown in. Some of the colour from the candy always bled into the batter, giving them a nice swirly effect, and they had been a massive hit at the bake sale at Sadie's school a few months earlier.

Bucky unloaded all the ingredients they needed onto the kitchen table, preheated the oven and pre-measured all the ingredients in their own separate little bowls while Sadie looked on from her seat, bouncing a little in excitement.

“Okay,” Bucky said once he'd finished, and offered his daughter a smile for waiting so quietly and so patiently. “First we gotta cream the butter. Do you remember which one that is, baby?”

“That one, Daddy,” she said, pointing to the two sticks of butter he'd laid out.

“That's right! Put it in!” Bucky said cheerily, and his daughter bounced again in excitement as she carefully picked up the bowl holding the butter, and tipped it into the basin of their fancy electric mixer.

Bucky switched the device on, and Sadie watched, entranced, as the huge beaters broke up the butter into chunks before it turned into a fluffy, creamy concoction.

“Okay, now the sugars,” Bucky instructed, “you do brown, and I do white, okay?”

Sadie nodded dutifully, and scooped up the brown sugar, packed into a number of sugary lumps, which she carefully tipped into the bowl, while Bucky poured in the white sugar in an even stream.

Sadie smiled broadly was she watched the mixture turn to a light, golden brown, and Bucky beamed at his little girl.

“Do you remember what's next, princess?”

“Eggs and vanilly!” she cried, and Bucky laughed at her enthusiasm.

“Vanill _a_ , baby.”

“Van-ill- _ah_ ,” she enunciated carefully, and Bucky chuckled at her warmly, earning himself another warm smile. “Can I put the eggs in, Daddy?”

“Sure you can, baby. Now, put just one in, and when you see it all mixed in, you add the second one along with the vanilla. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Daddy! I'm a _big_ girl!”

Bucky laughed a little, motioning for her to continue, and she lifted one of the bowls containing one of the pre-cracked eggs, and she tipped it carefully into the bowl, once more transported as the yolk was burst by the beaters, and then absorbed into the mixture.

“Daddy, it _disappeared!_ ” she cried, her eyes wide. “Where did it go?”

“It's in there, baby,” Bucky reassured her, “see how the mixture has gotten a bit more liquidy? That's from the egg you put in. But you gotta get that other one in there to—and the vanilla.”

“'Kay!”

Happily, Sadie tossed in the last egg and the vanilla, while Bucky mixed together the salt, baking soda, and flour by hand. Sadie watched him eagerly, as though he was showing her the secrets to the universe.

“Now, let me do this part, sweetie,” Bucky said as he flicked the switch on the mixer a few times until the beaters had slowed down considerably. “We don't want to have flour go _everywhere_.”

Sadie giggled and nodded, perhaps remembering when she'd turned most of their kitchen white when she dumped a huge measure of flour into the mixer at high speed when they were making pancakes a few weeks earlier.

“We want the flour _in_ the cookies!” she proclaimed, and Bucky laughed as he began to slowly add the flour to the wet ingredients.

With the mixer on a low setting, the spillage of the flour mixture was fairly minimal. He scraped down the sides with a spatula, making sure everything was mixed before he switched off the beaters completely and scraped them clean before he unlocked the bowl, and set it down in front of them as he said, “Okay, Sade, ready to add the chocolate and stuff?”

“Yeah!”

Bucky laughed again as she exuberantly threw the chocolate, M&Ms, and marshmallows into the bowl, and Bucky folded them in, making sure that they were evenly dispersed, and that the colours from the M&Ms ran a little.

Bucky then transferred walnut-sized dollops of dough to a pair of cookie sheets, and allowed them to bake. Sadie sat in front of the oven's window, watching the process with a note of awe in her expression, while Bucky loaded the dishwasher with everything they had used. Outside, he could still hear the bustle of the new people moving in, interspersed with annoyed shouts, as well as the occasional muffled curse word.

Bucky smiled to himself; he still remembered moving here with Sadie when she was three, two years ago. Out of the stink of the city, and into the suburbs close to the Adirondacks. Out here, there was plenty of fresh air, and no controlling, abusive alphas to pin him down.

He glanced to his daughter, and sighed a little. Sure, Brock paid his support—occasionally—but he hadn't come to see Sadie once since the move. He hadn't even _called_. Bucky was certain that she talked about it with her child therapist, Denise, but despite Bucky's encouragements, she never wanted to talk about it with _him_.

 _Maybe it's better that she doesn't,_ Bucky mused as he wiped down the table, just as Pistachio wandered in and sat next to Sadie like a balloon-shaped sentinel, keeping an eye on the little girl while she continued to watch the cookies bake. _I can't seem to keep my head when she talks about the good times with her other father, and I don't want to push my shit onto her._

 

The timer beeped, drawing Bucky from his dark thoughts, and Sadie jumped up excitedly as Bucky switched the alarm off, then headed for the oven. His little girl was hopping from foot to foot, a big smile on her face as Bucky laughed and grabbed an oven mitt.

“Step back a little, honey,” Bucky said, ushering her back a few steps as he moved to open the oven. “I don't want you to burn yourself.”

“Burns hurt,” she supplied, and Bucky laughed warmly in agreement while he pulled out the baking sheets one at a time, and set them on top of the stove to cool a little, shutting the oven, turning it off, and fishing out some cooling racks.

“That's right, Sade,” Bucky replied at last, offering her a warm smile as he worked. “Now, we gotta let these cool for a minute or two, then can you help me put them on the cooling racks?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding once. “You need more hands, Daddy.”

“Yeah, I do,” Bucky agreed, smiling a little. “Maybe mine will grow back one day, like a lizard tail.”

“That's _gross_ , Daddy!” Sadie cried, wrinkling her nose, making Bucky laugh again. “You're a better daddy with one arm than _any_ Daddy with two arms!”

Bucky shook his head, amused, knowing that only his daughter could get away with such convoluted compliments. Instead of speaking, Bucky tugged her into a hug.

 

~*~

 

After transferring the cookies to the cooling rack with Sadie's help (and surprisingly very few cookies on the floor), they left them for about an hour to properly cool.

Bucky abandoned his prosthetic on the clean kitchen table, and they took the Floor Cookies to the living room and watched _Moana_ while they munched on them.

The movie had been a vain attempt to calm Sadie down after the excitement of learning she had a new neighbour, but unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect on her. When she wasn't asking if it was time to bring the cookies over yet, she was peppering poor Bucky with dozens of questions.

“How many new neighbours do we have, Daddy?”

“I don't know, baby,” Bucky replied thickly around a mouthful of cookie, “one or two, I think.”

“Do they have any kids?”

“I don't know, Sade.”

“Do they have a dog? A dog would be okay if they have no kids.”

“I don't know, baby.”

On and on it went, and Bucky kept his voice level and even, never once ignoring her questions or blowing her off. After all the shit with Brock, Bucky knew that his little girl needed some stability, and the sound of a man raising his voice always scared her—and him too, if he was being honest with himself.

A _trigger_ , her therapist had told him—something he understood well from dealing with his PTSD.

“Daddy?”

The soft tinkling voice of Sadie drew Bucky again from his thoughts, and he glanced down to her. He could see his stormy eyes reflected back at him, with her dark, wavy hair, and olive skin. Bucky saw himself in her so much, and very little of his abusive ex. For that, he was always deeply grateful.

“Yes, honey?”

“Has it been enough time yet? Can we bring the cookies to the neighbours now?”

“Let's go find out,” Bucky replied, and laughed as Sadie leapt from the couch and raced into the kitchen.

 

As it would turn out, the cookies were indeed cool enough to pack up and bring over. Bucky selected one of his Tupperware containers that he was willing to part with, and let Sadie go to town decorating it with quick-dry glitter glue and stickers before she helped him pack up the treats, the layers separated with wax paper to keep the marshmallows from sticking together.

“Ready to go, baby?” Bucky asked, and his daughter beamed at him.

“I just need my shoes, Daddy!” she chirped, skipping to the door and all but jumping into her ballet-style summer shoes, black with white polka dots.

Bucky laughed again as he handed over the cookies, saying, “hold these, honey. I need my hand to do up my shoes.”

Sadie took hold of the container, clutching it tightly while she watched Bucky manoeuvre his slip-on running shoes onto his feet, then straightened up.

“Okay, ready to go?”

“ _Yes!_ ” she cried, and Bucky laughed again.

“Okay, come on, then,” Bucky said, waving her towards the door. “You hold the cookies, and walk slow so that you don't trip, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she said cheerily, clutching hard to the container as she trotted down the steps and into the front yard.

Bucky kept his eyes on Sadie as she all but skipped down the walkway and towards the sidewalk, while he shut the door behind him. He opened his mouth to call down to her, insisting she wait for him and not wander off, but she slowed to a stop just before the sidewalk and turned back to him, a bright smile on her face.

 _She is such a good girl,_ Bucky thought affectionately as he locked the door, before he followed her to the sidewalk. He gently guided her to the side closest to the houses, rather than the street, but Sadie didn't seem to notice, and instead resumed her cheery walk as they made their way along the the twenty or so feet from the sidewalk to their new neighbour's house.

Bucky's nose tickled as they headed over. The moving truck was still there, and two big, burly blond alphas were hefting an antique dresser out of the vehicle. Two male omegas and a female alpha stood by, most of whom were looking both apprehensive and aloof, except for the brunet male omega, who seemed to be chattering away in an attempt to get one of the alphas to drop the piece of furniture.

“Tony, I swear to God!” one of the alphas barked at him, making Bucky twitch before he could even think to stop himself, “this was my _great-grandmother's_ , and if you make me drop it I will turn _you_ into a fucking lamp!”

“Daddy, what's _fucking_?” Sadie chirped a little too loudly, and Bucky clapped his hand to his face as he bit back a groan. _Great._

“Great job, Cap,” the omega, apparently called Tony, said. “Not even in this new wasteland a whole day and you're already corrupting the kiddies.”

“Tony, your mouth is moving, you might want to see to that,” countered the alpha— _Cap? Is that a name?—_ while the alpha gingerly set down the dresser with his companion's help, and immediately began to jog over to Bucky and Sadie.

 _Whoa_ , Bucky thought, his spine curving a little as he instinctively bowed away from the intense reek coming off this alpha. Either he was on the cusp of a rut, or he was absurdly strong. Given that even his muscles seemed to have muscles, it was hard to tell which it was.

“Sorry about that,” the alpha said, smiling with embarrassment at them as he slowed to a stop a respectful distance away. “Tony always gets to me, especially when we've been moving furniture all day, and he won't help beyond colour commentary. I'm Steve, by the way, Steve Rogers.”

He said all of this very fast, and for a moment, Bucky was too lost in his scent to speak. Luckily, Sadie took care of the awkward silence nicely.

“I'm Sadie!” she chirped happily. “And this is my daddy. He's the best daddy in the wholest world, and he said good neighbours make things, so I maded you my favouritest cookies, but daddy helped a little.”

Sadie all but shoved the Tupperware container into Steve's hands, and he laughed warmly as he accepted them and immediately cracked the lid open to have a look.

“Oh wow, Miss Sadie, these look amazing! Can I share them with my friends?” Steve asked, genuine awe in his voice as he took an overlarge sniff of the cookies, making Sadie giggle.

“Okay,” she said, “but as long as you get some too.”

“I think I'll have one right now, if you don't mind!”

Without waiting, Steve plucked one of the cookies from the container, and crammed it into his mouth whole.

Sadie watched him excitedly, her eyes wide with hope, while Bucky chuckled, and watched the entire scene with an amused smile, which shifted to a soft laugh as he took note of all of Steve's friends inching up to them like a pack of hyenas, probably in a bid to steal a cookie.

“Well, I'll be darned, Miss Sadie, these are the _best_ cookies I've _ever_ had!” he turned around, grinning and held out the container to the vultures. In a matter of moments, half the cookies were gone, and he turned back to Bucky, apparently sizing him up as he stood there.

“I'll have to ask your daddy for the recipe, Mr...?”

“Barnes,” Bucky replied sheepishly while he did his best to not ogle the man. “James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” Steve repeated, and he smiled in a way that made Bucky's stomach flip-flop. “I like that. I like that a whole lot.”

 


	2. Coincidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi guys, thank you so much for the warm comments on chapter one! They completely made my day, and I'm glad this story has garnered some interest. Here is chapter two, and the following update will be up April 7th. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: References to Past Abuse**
> 
> **NOTE: Due to 8 of my stories being plagiarized in the span of a week, as of now all my works are being restricted to Registered AO3 users only, in order to minimize this happening again. I'm sorry for any inconvenience that this causes.**

Chapter Two – Coincidence

 

Bucky and Sadie stayed talking with Steve outside his house for a few minutes, primarily so that Sadie could ask Steve a few Important Questions.

“Do you have kids?” she asked curiously, and Steve laughed. It was a warm sound, like a cup of hot cocoa on a cold day. Bucky hated how he wanted to wrap himself up in that sound and never leave it.

“No, I don't,” Steve replied, and laughed again when Sadie looked very disappointed by this revelation.

“Well...do you have a dog?” she ventured, and Steve's laughter softened to a smile.

“I do, actually,” Steve said, and before Sadie could even ask, he whistled, waving his arm, and the redheaded woman from earlier looked up from her perch on Steve's front step. “Nat! Can you let Beatrice out?”

_Beatrice?_ Bucky wondered incredulously. _What sort of froofy name is that for a dog?_

Even as Bucky began picturing a teeny little dog the size of a hamster that Steve might put in his little purse, the woman called Nat opened the door. An enormous German Shepherd trotted out of the house, and made straight for Steve.

Beatrice sat at Steve's side, the perfect model of an obedient dog, and Steve patted the canine's head affectionately, while Sadie seemed to be almost bursting with excitement at the sight of her.

“This good girl is my Service Dog, Beatrice, but I call her Bea. Do you know what a Service Dog is, Miss Sadie?”

“Yes,” she replied cheerily, nodding her head. “We saw one in the store once. A lady in a wheelchair had a _big fluffy dog_ and I wanted to pet it real bad, but Daddy said I couldn't 'cos she was working, and her human needed special help, so I couldn't distract her.”

“That's exactly right, Miss Sadie,” Steve said with an approving nod. “I need her 'cause my brain doesn't work so good anymore, and sometimes I need help. But you can pet her if you want, she's not working right now.”

“What's wrong with you?” Sadie asked at once, and Bucky frowned at her.

“You can't ask that, honey,” Bucky said firmly, “it's not polite.”

“How come?”

“No, it's fine,” Steve interjected, offering Bucky another sweet smile that made him feel a little too warm. “I don't mind.”

“Oh, but—”

“Really, Bucky,” Steve said, his voice firm, but still friendly. “It's no biggie.”

“Daddy?” Sadie asked, and Bucky turned to her, finding her eyes to be wide and curious, as they so often were these days. “Can I pet the puppy now?”

“Go on, let her sniff your hand first, and then you can pet her,” Bucky said, vaguely relieved that she seemed to have forgotten her question to Steve.

Bucky watched his daughter dutifully hold out her hand to the dog, who was almost bigger than she was, and the creature took a sniff of her hand, her tail wagging, and Sadie brightened as she rushed forward to pet her, seemingly just barely holding in her excitement as she scratched Bea behind the ears.

“Where'd you serve?”

Steve's question was soft, not meant for Sadie's ears, but it still caught Bucky off-guard.

“Huh?”

“Sorry,” Steve said, ducking his head a little like he'd been scolded. “I don't mean to pry. But you got that... _look_. That _I've seen some serious shit_ look.”

Bucky eyed Steve suspiciously. Many people had asked him what happened to his arm, usually bluntly, or with an offensive pun, _especially_ pushy alphas who learnt that he was divorced. No one had acted like this—like it was normal, that it didn't change his opinion of him. What Steve wanted to know instead was about his service.

Considering what he went through, he wasn't certain whether Steve's tack was better than most people, or worse.

“Army, Sergeant with the 107th. Discharged not long after my team's Humvee hit a mine and exploded,” Bucky said shortly, omitting the part where he'd been thrown out of the army after his superiors discovered an _omega_ in their ranks.

_Fucking Omega Ban..._ Bucky thought, grinding his teeth. _If LGBT people and women can serve openly, why can't I? How am I different?_

“Same,” Steve replied with a nod of his own, and effectively drew Bucky out of his dark thoughts. “Army, Captain, with the 107th. Honourable discharge about six months ago, and still working on that integrating into civilian life...thing. How did we not know each other?”

“Must've missed each other on the way in and out,” Bucky replied dryly. The memories of his Army days always left something of a sour taste in his mouth. Nevermind he'd given his arm and almost his life for his country, they only saw him as an unworthy omega who had no place in their ranks. His medals and title had been taken away, all he had now was Sadie, who gave him more than the army ever had.

He was lucky, _blessed_ , really, that he had his little girl.

“You're funny,” Steve said, his voice still warm, but edged with unease, as though he recognized that Bucky was keen to get away from the dark topic. “Hey, what about we get together after my house is not completely in boxes?”

“Excuse me?” Bucky asked, arching a brow, and felt his anger beginning to bubble just below the surface of his mind. _Perfect. Not only have I opened myself up to another fucking pushy alpha, it also happens to be one who lives right next door._

“No, no, nothing like that!” Steve replied, his voice jumping up in pitch, his arms gesticulating in front of him as he stared at Bucky with a look of mild unease in his eyes. “I meant in a just-friends capacity. We can have dinner, Sadie can play with Bea, nothing...bad. Just friends.”

“Friends,” Bucky echoed, and Steve deflated a little in visible relief.

“Yeah, just friends.”

“Daddy! _Daddy!_ ” Sadie hissed in what was supposed to be a whisper, but was in actual fact not much softer than her regular tone of voice.

“Sadie!” Bucky admonished, “be polite. We were talking. What do you say?”

“Oh. Um...um...um... _ex-squeeze-me, Daddy?_ ”

_Close enough_ , Bucky thought, rolling his lips together to keep from laughing, while Steve covered his mouth, his head turning away, while his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“What is it, honey?”

“You _has_ to say yes and go visit Steve all the time so that I can has visits with the puppy. You _has to!_ ”

“You don't want to visit our new neighbour, just his dog?”

“Grown-ups is _boring_. You just talk about stuff. Puppies _play_.”

Bucky snorted, and Steve smiled. Again, it was an almost painfully sweet smile, one that made Bucky's heart beat a little faster.

 

~*~

 

“Not a crush, I don't have a crush...” Bucky muttered later as he and Sadie headed back home. Sadie was busy skipping down the sidewalk, jumping over the cracks in the cement, and terrifying a grasshopper that she spotted on the property line between their house and Steve's as she ran forward to capture it.

“Hey, Sade,” Bucky said when his girl walked back to him, the grasshopper clamped in her hand, the poor thing struggling against her hold, but she wouldn't let go. “What d'you think about inviting over Auntie Becca and Lola for supper tonight?”

“Do we _have to_ , Daddy?” Sadie whined, tilting her head back as she let out a long, dramatic groan. “Lola is no fun. Whenever she sees my pets, she gets all screamy.”

“Well, honey, you know not everyone likes bugs and spiders. I think if you just don't drop a slug on her again, she won't scream.”

“Auntie Becca thought it was funny though. I heard her laughing!” Sadie added, a mischievous grin crossing her face, and Bucky bit back a groan. _My child might actually be a psychopath_.

“Yes, your Auntie Becca _did_ laugh, but that still doesn't make it okay to scare your cousin,” Bucky said, aiming for nonchalant instead of an accusatory tone as they headed inside, and Sadie made a beeline for Pistachio, who meowed at her the moment she got close, as though she knew that Sadie had a yummy treat in her hands.

“No, Pistachio,” she said sternly, lifting the grasshopper higher. “This is Sir Jumpsalot, and he is not foods.”

“Go into the backyard, Sade,” Bucky said, not exactly keen to have such a big bug in his house longer than necessary. “I'll bring out a new house for him.”

“Okay!”

Sadie hurried to the sliding door that led to their deck, and opened it carefully with her free hand, not letting the round cat out, and shut it behind her while Bucky headed for the kitchen, and fished out an empty mayonnaise jar from the recycling.

Bucky reluctantly snatched up his prosthetic off the table where he'd left it, and hooked it in in order to hand-wash the jar under scalding hot water. He then poked a few haphazard holes in the lid before he dried it off and abandoned his arm again before carried the jar out, where Sadie was still clinging tightly to the poor creature.

Bucky set it down at the end of Sadie's line of plastic insect jars, as well as one ant farm. Most of the jars contained cocoons waiting to open, as well as one with a katydid and another with slugs, and one terrifyingly enormous wood spider.

Sadie dumped her newest pet into the jar, and screwed on the lid herself, smiling brightly, before she picked up the container, and clutched tightly to the shell-shocked insect while she wandered around the yard, selecting a few twigs and some fresh leaves to add to his enclosure.

“I have a tiny entomologist on my hands...” Bucky mused aloud as he watched her, then pulled out his phone to send a quick text to his younger sister.

_Dinner tonight? I promise my kid will not send your kid to therapy._

Bucky shifted his gaze to Sadie, who was heading back up the deck stairs, holding the jar carefully, and the grasshopper inside seemed to be contentedly munching on a leaf, and seemed to have put its trauma behind it. At the same moment his phone buzzed again, and he glanced down to see Becca's answer.

_Hell yes. Please cook me something. And it's totally fine if Lola gets her hands dirty—espesh if it's Sade's fault. My girl, you know I love her, but she is the worst kind of little princess, and I know it. (I'm working on it, I swear)_

“Sade!” Bucky called to her from across the yard, where his daughter seemed to be introducing the grasshopper to their pear tree. “Guess who's coming for dinner!”

“ _Snow White!”_ she called back, and Bucky laughed at her childlike sarcasm. Oh, she was too much like him for her own good.

“ _Try again, honey!_ ”

“ _If it's Auntie Becca and Lola, can you make lava-roley?_ ”

“ _You got it, baby!_ ”

Sadie cheered, and held up the poor grasshopper over her head as she ran back to the deck, tripping only once and face-planting into the grass, but got up without complaint, and continued to rush over to her father.

“And can we make sundaes for dessert? _Please_?”

“Yeah, all right,” Bucky agreed, “but for that we gotta go to the store.”

“I don't mind!”

“Which means you need to leave Sir Jumpsalot here.”

“Aw, Daddy!” Sadie whined, leaning back a little, but Bucky wouldn't budge.

“I'm sorry, Sade, but the grocery store will get mad at us if we bring an insect into the store again, so you gotta leave him here, okay? He'll still be here when you and I get back.”

“Oh, okay,” Sadie replied, a little disappointed, but remarkably more even-tempered than Bucky had expected.

Instead of her protests leading to a meltdown, she did the opposite—she set down the tub next to one of the cocoons, and patted the top in the same way one might pet a dog.

“Be good, Sir Jumpsalot,” she said, not unlike how a parent might speak to their child. “And I will be back soon.”

“And no wild parties,” Bucky added sternly, waggling his finger at the insect, making his daughter giggle.

 

~*~

 

Bucky always hated going out in public, in particular because he had to attach his prosthesis, and he always got _stares_ because of it.

Added to the fact that he had handicap stickers on his car, and a sticker from Sadie that read _I Love My Veteran Dad_ , it made him a prime target from both well-meaning people and nasty anti-war extremists who said that he deserved what he got for fighting for his country.

It all culminated in a vehement need to leave major cities behind, but even in Albany, New York, where they now resided, going into town for a few groceries always felt like he was gearing up to go to war.

Bucky started their shopping trip by getting the so-called _boring_ groceries—sun-dried tomato pesto, mushrooms, fresh lasagna sheets, and everything else that was on his list.

All the while, Sadie bounced at his side, never running off—much to his relief—but instead she would point to random food items to find out what they were.

“Daddy, what's _that_?” she asked, pointing to a bright orange tomato-shaped fruit.

“A persimmon, honey.”

“Daddy, what's _that?_ ” she asked, and pointed to a big, brown lump that seemed to be somewhere between a root and some sort of funny-looking tuber.

“That's celeriac, Sade.”

“Daddy, what's _that_?” she asked, pointing to a dark green pumpkin.

“That's a buttercup squash, Sadie.”

It continued until they made it out of the produce area, and Bucky snagged a bottle of his and Becca's favourite red wine before they moved to the ice-cream section, and Sadie went _bananas._

Bucky managed to reign her in a little as she filled up their cart with a huge container of Neapolitan ice-cream, as well as caramel sauce, chocolate fudge, toffee crumbles, cookie bits, sprinkles, marshmallows, whipped cream (in the cans, of course) and wafer cookies, but stopped her when she went to try and add doubles of everything.

“If you add anymore sugar to this cart, you'll be able to fly to the _moon_ ,” he teased as they headed towards one of the cashes, but unfortunately he was not watching where he was going as closely as he should have, and accidentally bumped into the cart ahead of him in line.

Which was when he noticed the service dog.

“ _Steve!_ ” Sadie cried happily when she noticed him, and the alpha smiled.

“We just keep... _running_ into each other, don't we?” Bucky asked, and immediately bit his tongue. _Why_ did he say that?

“More like you keep running into _me_ ,” Steve quipped, and curved a brow at Bucky, almost in challenge.

“Daddy, why is your face all red?”

“Oh, fuc...dge,” he amended as he lifted his hands to his cheeks, as though to hide it. “Am I?”

“You look like a tomato, Bucky,” Steve teased, his smirk widening to a genuine smile when Sadie began to giggle.

“Steve, can I pet Bea? Or is she working?” she asked, her little voice so sweet that it did not shock Bucky at all that Steve immediately relented with a nod, and Sadie let out a little happy squeal before she dutifully held out her hand for Beatrice to sniff.

“But seriously,” Bucky added, more softly this time as he regarded the alpha. “Why are you here?”

Steve eyed him curiously, as though he did not understand the suspicion that infused Bucky's tone. There was no reason he could, really—plus, he had no plans to share with this strange alpha the hell Brock had put his own family through. Stalking, trying to manipulate Sadie, buying her love with gifts one second, and hurling belittling remarks or fists at her when Bucky hadn't been near enough to get her away from his toxicity.

Bucky had seen war, and he'd seen devastation, but it was his time with Brock that Bucky still qualified as true hell.

“Just buying some beer and soft drinks,” Steve said, his easy, casual tone drawing Bucky out of the vortex of bad memories, and Bucky's stomach churned at the word, momentarily grateful that Sadie was distracted by the dog—to say she did not react well to the presence of beer was a bit of an understatement. “I promised beer, soft drinks, and pizza for my helpers, but most of them decided that they wanted the supervising job, so it was mostly me, Nat, and Thor moving stuff while the rest watched.”

“Some friends you've got,” Bucky remarked, and Steve laughed, one hand lifting to the back of his own neck in a motion of embarrassment, and in the process gave Bucky a _very nice_ view of one of Steve's biceps.

“No, they're actually great; we're just one big dysfunctional family.”

Steve paused, as though he wanted to say more, but instead offered Bucky another stunning smile, and glanced down to Bucky's own cart, which was considerably more full than Steve's.

“Date night?” he asked, motioning to the bottle of red wine, and Bucky did not fail to notice the faint lilt of disappointment in the alpha's voice.

“Um, no, my sister's coming for dinner with my niece,” Bucky explained. “Sadie requested homemade ravioli.”

“Oh, good,” Steve said, his cheeks tinting a faint pink, like he'd only just realized what he'd said.

“Why's that good?” Bucky asked, smiling a little.

“It's just...good,” Steve replied a little too hastily, in a tone that was a little too high, almost nervous, and he seemed genuinely relieved when the person ahead of them had finished, and he hefted his two purchases onto the counter.

 


	3. Visits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for April 21st. Enjoy :)
> 
> **Content Warning: Ableist Ignorance/Language, Mild Anxiety Attack**

Chapter Three – Visits

 

Bucky cursed when he heard a knock sound from the front door when he was in the middle of draining the pasta.

“ _Sade! Get the door!_ ” Bucky called, just as he heard the door open well before his daughter even reacted to his call, and he heard his sister's voice fill the quiet.

“Lola, don't _knock_ on the door, are you crazy? It's your uncle's house, that means you can just walk in!” Becca said, sounding falsely scandalized, closely followed by the sharp pitter-patter of Sadie rushing to the door.

“ _Auntie Becca, Auntie Becca!_ ” Sadie squealed, which was followed by a joyful shriek, the sound telling Bucky that Becca was likely lifting Sadie up and swinging her around, like she always did.

“Oh, and how are you today, my lovie?” Bucky heard his sister ask, her voice growing louder as they meandered towards the kitchen, where Bucky was now separating the pasta squares carefully, and setting them aside on a greased baking sheet.

“We got new neighbours!” Sadie piped happily. “ _And_ I learned a new word—”

“Oh no,” Bucky mumbled, straightening up to stop his daughter, but he was too late.

“ _Fucking!_ ”

Becca howled with laughter, but Lola, who was two years older than Sadie and a Very Mature Second-Grader piped up before Becca, Bucky, or Sadie could speak.

“That's a _bad_ word, Sadie!” she said in a very bossy sort of tone that Bucky didn't like to hear directed at his daughter. “You should never ever say it. I don't understand why Mommy is laughing. It's real _bad,_ and very _rude_.”

“Honey, it's okay,” Becca said quickly, and patted her daughter's head once, though the little girl did not seem very reassured by her mother's words. “It's definitely a word for grown-ups to use, and you shouldn't use it, but Sadie just learned it, so she gets a free pass just this once.”

“ _Blehhhh_ ,” Sadie replied, and Bucky turned toward the entryway in time to see Sadie sticking her tongue out at her cousin as she walked, holding hands with her aunt, and Lola crossed her arms sulkily.

“Sadie,” Bucky warned, and Sadie's tongue darted back in her mouth, and her cheeks turned a blotchy pink. “Be nice to your cousin, please.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Sadie replied, her innocent, sickly sweet voice that didn't fool anyone, and Becca smirked a little, as though she was proud of Sadie's attitude.

“Ah, congrats on raising a Mini Me,” Becca said affectionately after the girls had rushed off to play in the backyard. Bucky watched them go, fully expecting to hear Lola shrieking about the Scary Bugs before long, and considering how uptight the little girl was getting, Bucky wasn't entirely sure that Sadie traumatizing her with insects was really a bad thing.

“It's a little scary how much she is like you,” Bucky agreed, laughing a little as he went back to preparing dinner, and began to top the pasta with filling before he folded them into a rough ravioli shape. “Probably has something to do with how you practically raised her when Brock fucked off while I was stuck in Afghanistan.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Becca agreed while she poured them each a large glass of wine, and set down Bucky's next to him while he continued to fold the ravioli. “But you've done a good job with her. She's a good girl, despite the fact that she apparently swears like a sailor...or soldier.”

“That wasn't me, actually,” Bucky replied, smirking a little as he washed his hand off in the sink before he grabbed his wine, and took a fortifying sip. “It was my new neighbour.”

“Oh, great,” Becca grumbled, wrinkling her nose, “you got some redneck as a neighbour or something?”

“Oh, _hell_ no,” Bucky replied with a laugh as he thought back to Steve. “He's...god, Becks, he's like...the hottest gentile I've ever seen. He was yelling at one of his friends who was supervising the move-in, and happened to swear just as me and Sade were bringing over some Welcome-To-The-Neighbourhood cookies. He was really embarrassed, he definitely didn't do it on purpose.”

“ _Welcome-To-The-Neighbourhood Cookies_?” Becca asked with a small giggle. “When did _you_ get so...suburban?”

“Are you the pot or the kettle?” Bucky retorted, “'cause either way you're _black_.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” she said while Bucky placed a cloth over the finished ravioli to keep it from drying out, and moved back to the stove to start on the sauce. “Yeah, I know I was the first one to go suburban, but even after you came out here you still acted like you were in Brooklyn.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Bucky asked teasingly as he mixed together some vegetable broth and the pesto in a skillet, before he tossed in some fresh basil while Becca laughed.

“Maybe a bit of both,” she admitted, and paused to sip her wine. “Either way, Albany has been good for you guys, I think. I know Sadie loves it out here.”

“Yeah, she's definitely super into nature, and goes _bananas_ when we drive out to the Adirondacks for a hike,” Bucky replied with an affectionate laugh, stirring the sauce while he gazed to the sliding back door and the yard beyond, where the girls seemed to be playing some sort of tag game—that, or Sadie was chasing her cousin with an insect in hand. “She loves it out here, and so do I.”

“I still haven't figured out how you can _afford_ this place with just your V.A. Benefits and child support, but...yeah, it's definitely been good for her, being out here,” Becca agreed, and Bucky smiled tightly.

“Just my V.A. Benefits, let's be realistic,” Bucky said. “If Brock was ever on time with child support payments, I might actually die of shock.”

“Still,” Becca said, “it's a nice house in a nice, safe neighbourhood. On just your benefits...”

“Becks, I know you're just doing the Concerned Mother thing, but please don't,” Bucky interjected, his voice vaguely calm, but carried with it a tendril of annoyance. Did she _seriously_ think he was incapable of affording a house, just because he was a Veteran who worked from home?

_Well, I could always tell her about..._

Bucky's thought trailed off, and he shook his head. He'd promised himself when he won that bit of money that he wouldn't tell a _soul_. It was to protect Sadie, as well as himself.

Plus, it wasn't like he won _that_ much.

It was just enough to keep them afloat for a pretty long time, if Bucky kept up his home-business.

 

“I'm a Day-Trader, remember?” Bucky said at last, “I can work from home, and it makes good money when you have a vague idea what you're doing. It keeps me and Sade more than afloat, and we've been able to take some nice family trips because of it.”

“I _still_ can't believe you didn't invite me along to your trip to Hawai'i,” Becca moaned dramatically, and Bucky laughed.

 

~*~

 

“Daddy, is there dessert?” Sadie asked in between bites of her ravioli. Lola was picking at it, frowning at the mushrooms hidden inside the pasta, but Bucky's daughter always loved this dish, and ate hers happily.

“Maybe,” Bucky replied, “we got sundae stuff for tonight, remember? But you gotta finish your greens if you want it.”

“Awww,” Sadie moaned, and made a face at the tiny pile of salad on her plate. However, Bucky knew that his daughter actually liked arugula, and was just being difficult.

“Bucky, you _have_ to get me this recipe,” Becca added for the tenth time as she helped herself to a third serving of ravioli, while the kids continued to pick at their respective dislikes. “It's _amazing_.”

“It's good, huh?” Bucky replied, grinning a little. “I got the recipe from one of those meal kit delivery things, and kept the recipe after. Sadie _loves_ it.”

“Daddy always makes the _bestest_ lava _-_ roley!” Sadie chirped, and stuffed a huge mouthful of salad in her mouth, as though she only just remembered that arugula wasn't icky.

 

Overall, Bucky and Becca managed to get the girls to eat _most_ of their vegetables, and Becca helped clean up after while the girls went to play and digest before it was time for dessert.

“Really, Becks, you don't have to help,” Bucky said as he balanced a stack of plates in his hand, but his sister would not be shifted.

“Don't be an idiot, Bucky,” she retorted as she carried in her own stack of dishes, and helped him to load the dishwasher. “You made us an amazing meal, so it's in the rules that I have to help you clean up. Bad for the soul to sit back and watch you do all the work.”

Bucky smiled, appreciating not only her help, but the lack of a pointed comment about why she was so insistent on aiding him. The insinuation hung in the air between them, but never once did she vocalize it and remind him of his disability.

Bucky always loved that Becca made a point of never once mentioning his lost arm ever since he got home. It was always pleasantly refreshing to have someone around who _wouldn't_ bring it up, and never acted as though he was somehow incapable of doing simple tasks, just because he wasn't fully able-bodied.

“So...tell me more about this neighbour of yours,” Becca said conversationally once they'd finished cleaning up, and Bucky had gotten to work making after-dinner coffee for the two of them. When Bucky glanced back at her, she waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Why d'you wanna know more about Steve?” Bucky asked casually, and Becca let out a small giggle.

“Ooh, _Steve_. Good, strong name for...what'd you call him? _The hottest gentile you've ever seen_?”

“Shut up, Becks.”

“You have a crush, admit it.”

“Shut up, I do not,” Bucky retorted, but even as he spoke, he could feel his face flaring red.

“ _Yes you doooo_ ,” Becca retorted in a sing-song tone of voice, and Bucky glared at her. “Come on, what's wrong with admitting it?”

“I've known him less than twenty-four hours, run into him twice, and I don't want to make things weird if he's not into it,” Bucky said, and Becca laughed a little.

“Oh, Bucky, have you _seen_ you? The guy has to be an idiot to not like you.”

“That's not really the issue, I just got out of a relationship—”

“You got out of a relationship two years, six months, one week, and four days ago,” Becca interrupted, and smiled sweetly when Bucky glared at her. “It's time to get over that poor excuse for an alpha and find someone new. Plus, Sadie can't seem to shut up about him, or at least someone called _Bee_...”

“Bea, for Beatrice,” Bucky corrected on impulse, and Becca rolled her eyes. “It's Steve's service dog.”

“Why does he have a service dog?”

“Dunno, didn't ask—and it's rude to ask. I've told you that, like, a _hundred_ times.”

“I know, I'm just curious,” she replied with a vague shrug. “Is he like...deformed? Is that why?”

“ _Becca_! _”_ Bucky snapped, and glared at her. “Seriously, shut up. I don't want Sadie to hear and think that it's okay to ask a person with a disability those sorts of invasive questions, so knock it off.”

“Jeez, sorry,” she replied, rolling her eyes a little, as though she thought Bucky was being too sensitive. Bucky clenched his teeth, but said nothing, and their pleasant conversation dissolved into a tense, awkward silence.

 

~*~

 

The sour moods of the two siblings continued well into Dessert Time. Neither Lola nor Sadie seemed to notice however, given that the kids were far too busy making sundaes (and, by extension, an enormous mess) to really pay attention to their parents' moods.

Bucky smiled a little, his attention diverting a little from his sister as he watched Sadie eat her Chocolate Monstrosity of chocolate ice cream, chocolate fudge, and whipped cream. Lola's was little better, but hers seemed to be more caramel sauce than anything else, with the smallest amount of vanilla ice cream perched in the middle.

“Can we do this _every_ night, Daddy?” Sadie asked, her face covered in ice cream, and Bucky chuckled a little.

“Wouldn't you get bored if you had sundaes every night?”

“Uh-uh,” she replied, shaking her head a little, though she did allow Bucky to come at her with a wet towel, which he used to wipe her face. “Ice creams is the bestest, I'd never get bored of it!”

“Okay, honey,” Bucky said with a warm laugh, sitting back a little as he glanced at Becca with a small, uncertain smile. Becca offered him a small, apologetic smile in return, and Bucky felt the tension between them begin to break.

And just like that, they were okay again.

 

~*~

 

Once again, Becca helped Bucky clean up, doing the dishes while Bucky swept sprinkles off the floor, shook the tablecloth outside, and sprayed it with spot-cleaner before he tossed it into the wash, and prayed that the chocolate and caramel stains would come out.

As he was ascending the basement staircase, he heard Becca call Lola for a five-minute warning, and she let out a lamenting cry.

“Guess she and Sade are getting along better,” Bucky remarked as he got back upstairs, and grabbed some of their leftovers from the fridge for Becca to take home. “Here. Ma would kill me if I ever let you leave my home empty-handed.”

“Such a good son,” she replied in a reedy New Yorker accent, and a perfect imitation of their late mother, while she reached up to pat his cheek, before she returned to her usual speaking voice. “Thanks, Bucky, I'll definitely enjoy this, even if Lola won't.”

 

Bucky escorted his sister and niece to the door with Sadie at his heels, she politely hugging her aunt and cousin goodbye before she wandered off to play.

Bucky stayed by the door, watching Becca until she drove up the road in her raspberry-coloured car, and out of sight.

As he stood there in the peaceful quiet of the evening, he listened to his daughter talk animatedly to the cat, and almost unwillingly, his eyes slid from the street and to the house next to his own.

From this angle, he couldn't see much. The moving van was gone, but the lights were all on, and he could clearly see Steve and his friends sitting on boxes, laughing, and sharing a beer and several pizza slices, with one of them (the the short brunet omega that Bucky remembered being called Tony) attempting to feed Bea some pepperoni, and Steve barking at him, likely to make him stop.

It looked warm and inviting, and Bucky hated how he longed to just _invite himself_ over to their little gathering.

However, his mind balked at the idea, to the point where he even felt a little sick.

He didn't really understand what sparked the onset of this particular anxiety attack, but Bucky knew that he needed to get out of the situation before it got any worse, and he needed to do something to calm himself down so that he wouldn't scare Sadie.

Quickly, Bucky stepped away from the door, shutting and locking it before he strode calmly upstairs so as to not disturb his daughter.

Once he made it to his room, Bucky dug out his crochet supplies from the box by his bed, as well as his rarely-worn prosthesis which he had tossed upstairs haphazardly before Becca had arrived. He then headed back downstairs with a skein of variegated cotton yarn, a crochet hook, a pattern, and a pair of scissors in the tote bag that had been designated his _craft bag_.

Bucky found Sadie in the living room, building a Lego house for one of plush seals, and her head was tilting from side to side as she hummed, perfectly content in that moment.

Or she was, until she saw what was in her father's hands.

“Daddy!” she cried, her eyes going a little wide when she saw the craft supplies. “Are you sad?”

“No, honey, why do you think I'm sad?” Bucky asked calmly as he sat down on the couch, and began to organize the supplies he'd brought down. While he was busy hooking his arm into the socket and manipulating the fingers of the thing into a more crochet-friendly position, Sadie got up and crawled onto the couch next to him, her little eyes wide with concern for her father.

“'Cause you saided that doing crafts helps your brain when you're sad, remember, Daddy?”

“Ah, I _did_ say that, didn't I?” Bucky replied, and she nodded a little, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she gazed at her father with a look of worry.

So much for not letting Sadie in on his panic attack.

Bucky offered Sadie a reassuring smile, opened his arm, and his daughter immediately leapt into the offered embrace.

“I'm not sad now, honey, I promise,” Bucky said as he hugged her close. “The doctors I talk to _did_ tell me to do something to help me feel less sad, and this was the something I picked to do that with, but right now I just wanna do it to do it, does that make sense?”

“You're not sad, you're just bored?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, laughing a little. “I just wanna do it, and maybe watch a movie with you? You can pick.”

“Okay!”

Sadie happily pulled up Netflix and switched on _Ice Age_. She then curled up, her head on her father's flesh shoulder, while Bucky began to crochet.

When Bucky had first taken up the craft, he'd felt incredibly weird about it. Though it was often expected that an omega would be more effeminate by nature, Bucky had always been the opposite of that, with perhaps the exception of his against-regulations shoulder-length hair.

After he got back, and well after he got out of the hospital one arm short, his therapist had suggested that a handicraft to help him with his PTSD, which had sounded so _stupid_ at the time.

But after spending a week trying to pick one, he settled on crochet. With only one hook to handle instead of two knitting needles, it proved to be a bit easier, in particular after he worked out what angle to position his prosthesis' fingers, just enough to keep the yarn from slipping off of it as he worked.

And, despite his misgivings, and after two whole weeks of _hating crochet with a fiery passion_ , something clicked, and he finally worked out how to do it without turning his cheap, five-dollar yarn into a knotted mess.

More amazing still, was how it actually _did_ help.

He worked, stitch after stitch, and watched as the focus on the project made him fall into something not unlike a meditative state, his anxiety and depression draining away as the project would grow and take shape.

After being at it for about a year, he mostly made larger-scale projects that took several months to complete. As a result, he and Sadie both had chequered crochet blankets on their beds, and he'd made Becca a granny square blanket last year for the eighth night of Chanukah in blue and white.

He'd done a few smaller projects too, but blankets were his _thing._

For once, Bucky was not working on a blanket, but a series of cotton dishcloths in a colour called _Moonblast_ , which shifted colours from white, to light blue, light purple, and dark blue. The slow transition from colour to colour was oddly soothing in its own way, and Bucky felt the faint tendrils of the beginning panic attack fade away, like the ebb and flow of the sea.

Despite his focus on his project, he diligently kept an eye on the time, and at seven o'clock, he announced that it was bedtime.

“Oh, good,” Sadie replied, smiling up at her father. “I was getting sleepy.”

Bucky walked with Sadie upstairs and gave her a bath, allowing her ample playtime with her bath toys while he helped her to wash. He then bundled her up in her fuzzy purple bathrobe while he blow-dried her long brown hair, after which he watched as she brushed her teeth, before he led her to her bedroom, where she changed into her butterfly-patterned pyjamas.

 

“What story do you want to hear tonight, honey?” Bucky asked, and Sadie happily skipped over to her little bookcase, where she pulled out _Runaway Bunny_.

Bucky smiled, a small lump forming in his throat as he nodded, and she clambered into bed while Bucky sat down on the edge and opened up the picture-book. It was an old book, and the pages creaked a little as he looked down at the blank cover page, where a small inscription in blue ink was still visible, as though it had been written yesterday—

 

_To James,_

_Happy 1_ _st_ _Birthday,_

_Love,_

_Mom & Dad_

_March 10 th, 1987_

 

Bucky smiled his eyes sparkling a little as he flipped to the first page and began to read to his daughter, doing his best to keep his voice steady as he went. Like Robert Munsch's _Love You Forever_ , this was one of the few storybooks that always made him cry, and not just because it was a family heirloom. The story of the mother bunny promising to always follow her child wherever they went deeply resonated with Bucky, and had ever since he first found out that he was pregnant.

Sadie fell asleep before the conclusion of the story, and Bucky set it aside in order to tuck his daughter in. He stroked her hair, and smiled down at her warmly, knowing that whoever she was, whatever she might become, no matter _what_ , he would always be with her, and always be her strength.

And she, in turn, gave Bucky the strength to do it, and she always would.

 


	4. Not A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, thank you again for taking the time to bookmark, comment, and kudo on this story. It's one of my current favourites to write, and I'm so happy that other people like it too ^.^ next update is scheduled for...ye gods, May 5th. The next time I update this, I will be 30 ;_; (My birthday is May 3rd lmao) Happy Easter, everyone!
> 
> **Trigger Warning: Anxiety, Referenced Past Alcoholism, Referenced Past Spousal Abuse, Referenced Past Child Abuse, Past Character Death**

Chapter Four – Not A Date

 

The following Sunday, there was a knock on Bucky's front door.

He stood up from his office chair, but Sadie got there well before he could, and as he stepped out of the room to make for the door, already he could feel a blush creeping up his neck when he heard his daughter cry, “ _Steve!_ ”

“Hey, Miss Sadie,” Bucky heard Steve reply warmly. “Is your dad home?”

“Uh-huh. He's in his office. _Daddy!_ ”

Sadie's shriek would have woken the dead, and Bucky winced when he rounded the corner, his reading glasses hooked through the front of his shirt as he frowned at his daughter.

“Sade, what have I told you about screaming in the house like that?” Bucky asked as he approached the door. The infuriatingly charming alpha that was standing there bore an innocent smile on his face, an empty tupperware container in his hands, and his service dog at his side.

“That it makes your ears go owie,” she replied, making Steve huff a soft laugh, and Bucky roll his eyes.

“Yeah, what else?” Bucky asked, and Sadie began to pout, as though she had been cornered in her little misdeed.

“That it's an outside noise,” Sadie mumbled, and bowed her head. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“Try to remember, honey,” Bucky said, offering her a small smile as though to say, _no harm done_ , and patted her on the head, making her giggle, before he finally turned to Steve and said, “uh, hi.”

“Hi,” Steve replied, chuckling warmly as he offered Bucky a disarming smile. “I was just coming by to return this.”

He held out the tupperware, some of the glitter having rubbed off, perhaps in the wash, though Bucky did notice a lot of it seemed to be stuck to the alpha's hands as well.

“Thanks,” Bucky said as he accepted the container, and he held it out to Sadie. “Sade, could you go and stick this in the kitchen, please? Then you can go and play.”

“Okay!” Sadie said cheerfully, accepting the container before she darted off.

“She's...energetic,” Steve offered, and Bucky smiled weakly. It had been a long time since he'd been alone with an alpha, and the sensation, far from being pleasant, brought back more than a few bad memories. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his hand while he tried to keep himself calm.

“She keeps me on my toes,” Bucky replied, cracking a small smile as he regarded the alpha at his door, and Steve nodded, as though he understood that Bucky was far from completely comfortable with his presence in Bucky's space.

“Uh...I also came by because I wanted to ask you to dinner,” Steve said, but in the same breath seemed to realize how that sounded, and his eyes bulged, while his skin went from sunburn-at-night- _white_ to tomato-red.

“ _Not like that!_ ” he blurted out, eyes still wide, “I mean just a casual, neighbourly thing. Because you brought me cookies and I offered to invite you over after my place was presentable, and we could just have dinner and Sadie could play with Bea, and all that stuff. Not like...a date?”

Bucky could all but hear the unspoken addendum of _unless you want it to be?_ hanging in the air between them.

Bucky chose to ignore it, along with the butterflies that had erupted in his stomach, though he could do little about the embarrassed blush that was creeping up his neck.

“Um,” Bucky's voice escaped him as little more than a high squeak. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “Uh, yeah, sure. I'm sure Sadie would really like an excuse to play with your dog too. When?”

“Is tonight too soon?” Steve asked hopefully, “I have a great recipe for pulled pork—what?”

“What?”

“You're making a face,” Steve supplied, smiling a little. “Are you not a pork fan?”

“You could say that,” Bucky replied with a small, dry laugh. “We're Jewish.”

“Oh. _Oh._ No pork, or dairy mixed with meat, right?” Steve asked, his tone apologetic, and Bucky nodded.

“Okay, so how about...oh, I know. I have this amazing and ridiculous veggie lasagna...it's got a white sauce, and, get this— _seven types of cheese._ ”

“Sadie and me _love_ cheese,” Bucky confirmed, smiling, and Steve offered Bucky the most brilliant smile he'd ever seen, even as Bucky tried to ignore the twist in his gut telling him that he was falling for this guy's stupid charm way, _way_ too fast.

Steve left, looking markedly pleased with himself, and Bucky, in contrast, abandoned the day's work as he headed for the kitchen, intent on making something to bring along to this Definitely-Not-A-Date-Dinner.

 

~*~

 

Predictably, Sadie was thrilled at the prospect of visiting Steve.

In the late afternoon, Bucky showered before he dressed in his nice jeans and a button-down shirt, the sleeve rolled up to his elbow. He once again didn't bother with his prosthetic, but instead pinned the empty sleeve back, though in the mirror, it did not exactly aid with the casual-but-not-too-casual look that he was going for, and he felt far less put-together when his gaze continued to fix on the missing limb.

For Sadie, Bucky insisted upon a similarly casual-but-not-too-casual look, and got her to dress in her black leggings and hot pink short dress, making her look a little like a tiny hipster, but the dress was cotton, and so any stains she got from rough-housing with the dog would wash out easily enough.

After they brushed their teeth and did their hair together in matching up-dos, Bucky headed out, locked the door, and with the baking tray in his hand and Sadie at his side, they headed down the sidewalk towards Steve's house.

Sadie knocked on the door for them, and when Steve answered, dressed casually in fitted jeans and a tight T-shirt, it was paired with another one of his broad and charming smiles.

“Hey, you came!”

“It's not like we could _not_ come,” Bucky said teasingly, and Steve offered him a wry smirk.

“Yeah, I know where you live, Bucko.”

“That's not Daddy's name!” Sadie interrupted, “it's _Buh_ -key. Not Bucko. That's a horse's name.”

“Sadie!” Bucky cut in, frowning at her. “You're a guest here, you need to be polite, and interrupting like that is _not_ polite. Apologize, young lady, _right now_.”

“Sorry, Steve,” Sadie mumbled, her bottom lip quivering a little, as though she was mildly shaken by her father's harsh tone.

“No harm done, Miss Sadie,” Steve replied with a warm smile. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, please,” Sadie said, still in a soft, and almost tearful tone, and though Bucky had felt that the admonishment was justified, the sad tone of his daughter's voice still pulled achingly at his heartstrings.

Sadie shuffled inside, her head ducked a little, and she toed off her shoes at the door, which Steve dutifully set aside, while Bucky awkwardly held out a wrapped baking tray.

“I brought...um...Nutella Brownies,” Bucky said, suddenly feeling monumentally stupid at the infantile gesture, but Steve's wide, sunshine smile dimmed Bucky's self-consciousness almost at once.

“Oh, I _love_ Nutella! I put that sh...tuff...on _everything_.”

Bucky snorted a little, saying, “good save,” as he kicked off his own shoes after Steve had accepted the tray, and set them next to Sadie's. Steve was still smiling, though he was flushing a faint pink with embarrassment.

“Well, you two, come in!” Steve said happily. “Bea is probably napping in the living room if you wanna go say hi, Miss Sadie, and there's snacks for you and your Daddy in the kitchen—”

Sadie was off like a shot at the prospect of greeting a dog, and Bucky laughed as he listened to her cheerily greeting the dog, while Bucky looked around to inspect the entryway of the house.

The walls were painted a soft café au lait brown with white trim, though far from appear drab or dull, there was something almost _artistic_ about the colour choice, and it felt warm and inviting.

Steve led Bucky down the hall, the walls decorated with white frames of people he did not know, though a few he recognized from the initial move-in the previous weekend. Many of the shots featured a woman with short red hair and dark lipstick. She held onto Steve's arm, and they both seemed to be laughing or smiling in every picture. There were shots of them outside of Big Ben in London, on the water in a canoe at some nondescript lake, and traversing the streets of New York City.

“Is she your wife?” Bucky asked conversationally, trying to ignore his prickling jealousy, and he cursed inwardly as he spotted a soft sadness fill the alpha's eyes, which dimmed his own negative feelings at once.

“Um, no...not anymore.”

“Oh, sorry. Divorce?”

“Cancer.”

Bucky could have kicked himself for bringing it up at all. He chanced a glance to Steve, and found that he was smiling sadly. He was holding the brownies Bucky had brought in one hand, and he was fingering something underneath his shirt with the other. By the sound of it, Bucky could guess it was the alpha's dog tags.

“Um...wow. I'm real sorry, Steve, that's...I don't really know what to say without sounding like a jackass.”

Thankfully, Steve laughed, and he offered Bucky another smile.

“It's fine, really. It happened a long time ago. She was an amazing person, though. Real tough, and no one could be Peggy but Peggy. She's gone, but not forgotten, you know?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, thinking of his Ma, of the men— _friends—_ he'd lost on his last mission with the Army, and everyone else who had come and gone in his life. “I know.”

“Anyway, you're doing better than Tony did, you know, _after,_ ” Steve continued as he offered Bucky another smile. “His solution was Vegas. That was all _kinds_ of a terrible idea.”

“I can only _imagine_ ,” Bucky said with a small huff of laughter. There was a twinkle in Steve's eye when he spoke of this Tony person, though it was a nostalgic sort of look. Bucky could guess that Steve and Tony likely had a thing at one time, but by the same token, Bucky could also surmise that either it had never fully blossomed, or it had been over pretty quickly.

Either way, Bucky did not ask about it as Steve led Bucky farther into his house and into a large open room, a connected living room and kitchen.

The whole space smelled warmly of cheese and vegetables. On the left side was a carpeted living room area with a mid-sized TV, two leather couches and matching ottoman, a glass coffee table, and real fireplace.

At the back of it was a glass sliding door that led out onto a large deck, which sported a number of mismatched deck chairs, a barbecue, and a few rows of young plants in tiny pots, left out as though Steve was still working on planting them all.

On the right was a breakfast bar lined with leather-cushioned bar stools that looked in on a modest kitchen with a round kitchen table near the far end, leaden with a platter of cheeses, and another of cut-up vegetables with some sort of white dipping sauce. In the oven, Bucky could see a store-bought lasagna bubbling away, but visibly not ready yet.

It was an odd sort of clash between homey and upper-middle-class. Out here were less photographs on the walls, and instead framed portrait paintings of some sort of abstract art that Bucky did not recognize.

“You got a real nice place here,” Bucky offered, his gaze falling to Sadie, who was playing tug of war with the dog and a rope toy, and Steve flushed pink again while he smiled at Bucky bashfully as he led the omega over to the kitchen table, where he sat down and set aside the brownies.

“Thanks,” Steve replied. “Still doesn't feel much like _home_ , but my friends think the fresh air and peace out here will be good for me. Out of the stink of the city.”

“That's why we moved too,” Bucky said, fishing a stick of celery off the platter, and dunked it deep into the dipping sauce while he spoke. “Fresh start, fresh air, all that jazz.”

“Where'd you live before?”

“Brooklyn.”

“No sh—way. Me too.”

Bucky snorted at Steve's endearing attempt to censor himself as Bucky crunched on the ranch-drenched celery while Steve stood up again, and Bucky was once more subject to just how _huge_ this alpha was.

Steve was built like a brick shed, so broad, and so handsome, but unlike his ex, it was like Steve tried to _avoid_ taking up space. It was as though he was aware of his size, but did not wish to use it as an intimidation tactic.

Bucky liked it.

“Um, want a beer?”

Steve's tentative request cut through the silence, and Bucky shook his head.

“Um, not a beer fan,” he replied, and tried to ignore the way his stomach churned, almost acidic, at the idea of drinking beer. “But a soft drink or...wine...or something else would be great.”

_Anything but beer._

Steve nodded, apparently not noticing Bucky's anxiety, and he swiftly pulled out a Coke for Bucky, and a beer for himself. At the same moment, Sadie and Bea wandered over. Bea laid her head in Bucky's lap, calming him without him even knowing that he needed it, while Sadie made a beeline for the food, but froze when she saw the beer halfway to Steve's lips.

As though a switch had been flipped, tension flooded in the air like a sudden earthquake ripping away the tranquil atmosphere. Sadie was frozen, her eyes wide as she stared at the bottle in Steve's hand, and Bucky could all but feel his daughter trembling.

“Oh, you know what?” Steve said with a tense laugh, “I think I'd rather have a Coke.”

Steve dumped the beer down the sink, pointedly holding it high enough so that Sadie could see every drop of the alcohol drain away, before he tossed it into the recycling. Then, he grabbed two more soft drinks from the fridge, and held one out to Sadie. “Would you like one, Miss Sadie?”

Sadie was visibly nervous, her eyes still wide, and Bucky instinctively wrapped an arm around his girl, and kissed her cheek gently.

“It's okay, baby,” Bucky whispered as softly as he dared. “He's not Papa. He won't hurt you, or take away the drink.”

Bucky watched Sadie visibly swallow, her fear still visible upon her face, even as she tentatively inched forward, step by step, until she was close enough for Steve to open the can and hand it to her with a straw, and after accepting it, Sadie darted away.

“Guess I hit a trigger,” Steve said after a long, awkward pause. “I'm sorry about that, Buck. I've seen that look on battered spouses before, but never little kids.”

“It's fine, I guess,” Bucky replied, despite the fact that it was really _not_ fine. “Alcoholism was a major theme in our house when Sade was younger, especially beer. Let's just leave it at that.” Bucky said icily, his tone warning Steve that asking further would be a monumentally bad move, and Steve nodded, his expression noticeably grave, but understanding as well.

“I get that,” he said at last, “Sorry for...you know, not knowing better. So...um, what do you do?”

Bucky was on the cusp of pointing out that there was no way that Steve could have known, but the quick subject change gave Bucky the impression that Steve was trying to avoid dwelling on it, or make it worse by pressing.

“Day-Trading,” Bucky answered, shrugging his shoulders while he sipped his drink. “It's boring, but it pays the bills. You?”

“I'm an artist.”

“Come again?”

“You know,” Steve said, gesturing vaguely with his hand while he chuckled. “Like when you put paint on paper, and then you make the mistake of showing it to your friends, and they book a stupid art show for you, then the next thing you know every snot-nosed art critic in the city wants a piece of you.”

“Oh, _that_ kind of artist,” Bucky replied, laughing a little. “Shouldn't you be...I dunno...in tinted glasses and monologuing about the colour yellow or something?”

“First of all, Mr Barnes, _they_ are the pretentious ones, not me,” Steve countered, amusement in his voice as he spoke. “Second of all, I just paint. S'not my fault if people like it.”

“Okay, that is an actual point,” Bucky conceded, “but you're so...you don't look like an artist, is what I mean.”

“Artists can be attractive too, not just Day-Traders.”

“I never said...wait, what?”

Steve grinned an adorable, irritating, shit-eating grin, and Bucky didn't know if he wanted to deck the bastard, or kiss him.

 

~*~

 

Dinner was pleasant, and fairly good for something that was store-bought instead of homemade.

The pasta was layered with so much cheese it should have bordered on _too much_ , but somehow wound up being _just right_. The various kinds—ricotta, mozzarella, cream cheese, and more that Bucky struggled to pick apart and identify—were interspersed with a delicate cream sauce as well as layers of broccoli, corn, zucchini, and carrots. Bucky and Steve ate theirs with a nice white wine, while Sadie's was accompanied with apple juice in a plastic wineglass and straw, making her feel _very_ grown up.

As Bucky watched her happily chatter with Steve, detailing every tiny thing Bea did in his absence, he reflected on the incident in the kitchen from earlier.

It was true what Bucky had said; Brock liked his beer.

He liked it too much, which was where the problems started, and they only got worse when Bucky realized that his partner was not merely a drunk, but a _mean_ drunk.

Bucky shivered a little at the memories that assaulted his mind, despite his efforts to ignore them and focus on the present. Trips to the emergency room to set Sadie's broken arm; to have his own head checked more than once for concussions; to have glass carefully extracted from a wound on his remaining arm, when in a rage Brock had tried to stab him with the broken beer bottle.

And Sadie, his poor, precious Sadie was not only witness to so much hardship, but just as much a victim as Bucky was, and she watched her Papa do it all with a beer bottle in his hand.

As a result, it did not shock Bucky that she would react so strongly to someone drinking one in front of her, and really it was only thanks to Steve's quick thinking that saved Sadie from disassociating more fully.

Bucky fished out a piece of broccoli, and placed it in his mouth. He chewed slowly as he mulled everything over. Sadie had never been alarmed by the sight of her Daddy having the occasional glass of wine— _very occasional_ , after everything. It was only beer bottles that triggered her. Not the smell, or anything else. She associated beer bottles with darkness, and his poor baby, who should be worrying about playing, dissolved into a husk of her former self whenever a beer bottle appeared.

Bucky sent a silent prayer up to God, hoping that he would have the strength to help his daughter get through this.

Because no one— _no one—_ deserved a happy childhood more than his precious, sweet, and kindhearted little girl.

Bucky swore that he would get her there, no matter what it took.

 


	5. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE! Party weekend sucked up all my editing time ;_; Next update is scheduled for May 19th. Enjoy! :D
> 
> **Trigger Warning: Panic Attack, Anxiety, Mild Dissociation**

Chapter Five – Trust

 

“I gotta say, Bucky,” Steve said with a grin, “I'm real excited to try your brownies. They smell _awesome_.”

“Daddy makes the _bestest_ stuff!” Sadie chirped happily, “you need to come over to my house, so that Daddy can feed you, and I can show you _all_ my cute pets.”

“I'd love that, Miss Sadie,” Steve replied, laughing warmly as he got up from the table and moved to the main area of the kitchen to begin cutting the brownies, with Sadie following along behind him. Bucky smiled and watched, in spite of his burgeoning embarrassment at his daughter apparently setting up a second— _no, first,_ he reminded himself—date for him. “How many pets do you have?”

“Um...” she glanced at her father thoughtfully, then held out seven fingers to Steve. “This many.”

“ _Seven_ pets?” Steve asked, his eyes widening a little, “that's a whole lot of mouths to feed, Miss Sadie.”

“It's okay,” Sadie said with another smile, “Pistachio is the only one who eats a whole lot.”

“And who is Pistachio?” Steve asked, chortling warmly as he began to plate the brownies, and pulled some vanilla ice cream from the freezer, which he scooped on top of the treats.

“My kitty, he's _this_ big!” Sadie cried, extending her little arms as far as they would go in an effort to show Steve how embarrassingly fat their cat really was. “He eats monsters, that's why he's so big.”

“Why else is he big, honey?” Bucky asked pointedly, and his daughter offered him an innocent smile.

“I don't know.”

“Maybe 'cause you sneak him bits of food when I'm not looking?”

“Uh-uh,” she replied, shaking her head and making her hair fall a little from its updo, causing strands of dark hair to fall into her face. “It's 'cos he eats all the monsters that make my dreams bad.”

“We got her from this little old lady with Dementia who kept forgetting that she fed the cat, and so fed him way too much every day,” Bucky filled in as Steve walked back over, balancing all three dessert plates carefully in his big arms. “He's supposed to be on a diet, but _someone_ keeps giving him chicken, cheese, and other stuff when I'm busy or not looking.”

“That sounds implausible to me,” Steve replied in a matter-of-fact tone, making Sadie giggle and Bucky roll his eyes. “Clearly it's because your cat saves Miss Sadie from having bad dreams.”

“Steve?” Sadie asked as she climbed back into her chair, just as Steve was in the middle of heading back to the counter to grab cups of coffee for the adults, and a glass of milk for Sadie.

“Yes, Miss Sadie?” he asked as he turned back around, this time balancing three glasses in his hands.

“What's im-im-impausible?”

“Implausible,” Steve corrected kindly, smiling as he placed the glass of milk in front of her, and ruffled Sadie's hair gently, making her giggle. “It means when something sounds like it wouldn't work, or it isn't something you can believe, like...I don't know, like aliens invading New York City or something.”

“I bet you would save New York from the aliens all by yourself!” Sadie chirped happily.

“I dunno, I bet I'd need all my friends to help me out some...” Steve replied as he glanced to Bucky, smiling coyly, and Sadie giggled again.

“You're so silly, Steve.”

 

Bucky smiled as he watched them, dipping his fork into the ice cream-nutella-brownie concoction on his plate. He flushed under the praise as Steve took a bite and proclaimed, once again, that he absolutely _needed_ the recipe for Bucky's Brownies.

 

~*~

 

By the end of the evening, Steve had built up a fire in the grate (with Sadie's enthusiastic help) and the two adults chatted idly while Sadie tried to convince Bea to play with her. The big german shepherd was uninterested however, and let out a tiny groan as she shut her eyes again, making Sadie pout.

“Poor Bea is gonna be too tired to do _anything_ tomorrow,” Steve said teasingly, and Bucky chuckled warmly.

“Should I be apologizing for that?”

“Nah,” Steve replied as he cocked a smile at Bucky. “She's a service dog through and through, and always does a good job no matter how tired she is. Most of our days are pretty quiet, anyway. It's just me painting, and sometimes at night we'll go out to visit with friends at their houses. No bars for me anymore—too crowded.”

“I feel that,” Bucky agreed, forcing a faint smile as they sipped on cups of coffee, which Bucky knew he would regret later, as he'd probably be up all night.

In truth, his own reasons for avoiding bars were wildly different, and mostly thanks to his ex, but his friendship with Steve was too new to overshare like that, and thus he kept himself quiet.

“So, what else are you into?”

“Huh?” Bucky said as he glanced up from his coffee and saw that Steve was watching him with a soft, almost doe-eyed expression on his face.

“What do you like to do, I mean, apart from raising a great kid and Day-Trading, I mean,” he explained, his voice still warm, unassuming, and gentle. It made Bucky feel like if he chose to dodge the question, Steve might not get angry at him over it.

“Oh, that stuff,” Bucky said, feeling the heat begin to rise in his cheeks yet again, but Steve didn't laugh at him. Instead, he merely waited for Bucky to continue. “Um...well, I spend a lot of time at home, 'cause of Sade, but I like to cook and bake and stuff, and I'm pretty good at it...um...I like to hang out with my sister...um...I do crafts, I guess...uh...I work out when I find the time...”

Bucky trailed off, a realization hitting him— _shit, what_ do _I like to do?_

“You know, stuff,” Bucky finished, and Steve nodded his head sagely.

“Ah, yeah, I was into _stuff_ for a while, too,” Steve said as he offered him a small grin, and Bucky laughed weakly, his mind momentarily caught up in his anxiety as he began to bounce his leg, his thoughts awash in momentary panic.

 

_What do I like to do?_

_What do I do with my friends?_

_Do I even_ have _friends?_

 

Bucky didn't know the answer to any of those questions, and he _hated_ that he didn't know.

He was a grown man, after all, and he was raising a smart kid who had zero issue opening up to people three seconds after meeting them. She was a kind, sweet girl, but she was also strong. It humbled Bucky every day to watch her bounce back from Brock—the hell he should have saved his baby from.

At least one of them survived the hell Brock put them through.

“Um, we should probably be heading back,” Bucky choked out, not looking at Steve as he spoke, but still he could feel two sets of disappointed, puppy-dog eyes boring into him as he spoke, emanating from both the alpha as well as his daughter. “Uh, it's a school day for Sade tomorrow, and she needs to get to bed.”

“Aw, Daddy, do we _have_ to?” Sadie whined as Bucky drained the last of his coffee and got up. “I don't _have_ to go to school—”

“You know the drill, Missy,” Bucky interrupted, “we all have to do things we don't like sometimes, which means going to school, or doing work, or washing dishes. _Sometimes stuff is no fun, but it's gotta get done_ , like it says in your storybooks.”

“I still don't wanna go, Daddy,” she said sourly, and Bucky raised his eyebrows. Sadie did sometimes get a little snippy near to bedtime if she was extra-tired, but even for her this was a little much.

“Hey, Miss Sadie,” Steve interrupted, his tone almost awkward, as though he was hesitant to intervene on something that wasn't his business. “You know, school is pretty important. You got not just class, but games, and recess, and friends too, but it's no fun if you're too tired in the morning. You should probably listen to your dad. And Bea will still be here in the morning, you could always stop in and say hi to her on your way.”

“Really?” Sadie asked, her eyes widening with excitement at the idea of starting her day with a _dog_.

“If your dad's cool with it, then I don't see why not.”

Steve looked at Bucky at the same moment that Sadie did, and Bucky was powerless against the dual sets of puppy-dog eyes boring into him.

“I'll say yes if you two _promise_ to stop doing that,” Bucky said sternly, and Sadie and Steve exchanged a bemused look.

“Stop what?” the pair asked together, and the three of them began to laugh.

 

~*~

 

Despite Sadie's excitement at the prospect of seeing a dog before school, the evening had still effectively worn her out, and Bucky had the good sense to call it a night before he was forced to carry his daughter home, which was a bit of a complicated task when one was one arm short.

“Thanks for tonight,” Bucky said, smiling at Steve while Sadie fumbled with her shoes, hindered somewhat by her fatigue. “We had a great time.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, his expression brightening a little, and Bucky smiled again.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, laughing a little as Beatrice got up from her nap spot, and moved to sit at Steve's side. Reflexively, the alpha laid his hand atop the dog's head, as though he was seeking comfort from the animal.

“Well...um...maybe I should have your number,” Steve hedged, his face flushing pink as he spoke. “I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, no pressure, but just so that I know when to expect you guys tomorrow, and...um...stuff.”

Bucky eyed Steve uncertainly. Steve's expression looked genuine enough, and he knew no one who could blush on command like that, but a niggling voice in the back of his head still warned him of letting an alpha— _any_ alpha—get too close. What if he turned into another Brock, and this whole cute-shyness thing was a big act?

But then again, it was just a friendly neighbour, with a dog whom his daughter was in love with.

It wasn't as if they were _dating_.

“Give me your phone,” Bucky said before he could talk himself out of it, and Steve's entire demeanour seemed to brighten as he happily unlocked his phone, and handed it to Bucky.

Bucky quickly added his number to the device, his hand mildly shaking as he did so.

He was just a neighbour.

_He was just a neighbour_.

Bucky couldn't quite shake off the first tendrils of a panic attack as he forced a smile at Steve, swallowing his anxiety as he so often did when Sadie was present. She did not need anything else to worry about, and she _certainly_ didn't need to see her poor dad fall apart from adding his number to their neighbour's _phone_.

Bucky hastily thanked Steve again for their nice evening, made sure Sadie politely said goodbye, then rushed them both home.

 

~*~

 

Bucky barely recalled Sadie's bedtime rituals.

He knew he'd done them, and remembered little things—giving Sadie her nightly bath, reading to her, and tucking her in, along with the usual _I love you_ s, but it he was strangely detached from it, like he was watching it on TV.

And meanwhile, his phone continued to light up with a series of messages from his neighbour.

 

**Unknown Number – 7:10pm**

_Hey, this is Steve._

 

**Unknown Number – 7:16pm**

_I hope I wasn't too pushy as you were leaving with asking for your number. I won't ask for details or anything, I know it's not my business, but I want to be your friend, nothing...more._

**Unknown Number – 7:19pm**

_I mean, I wouldn't mind more._

**Unknown Number – 7:31pm**

_But I'm not gonna push, and I'm not asking, either, cause it seems like you're maybe not interested, and I don't want to be -that- guy._

**Unknown Number – 7:37pm**

_Okay, well, I'll be up early anyway, um, I'll see you tomorrow when Sadie comes to see Bea. I'm sorry if these texts sound pushy as hell, but I usually of word myself better when I text, so I tend to...make an ass of myself, apparently._

**Unknown Number – 7:43pm**

_Sleep well, Bucky._

 

Bucky hadn't even dared to properly open the messages, reading the notification as it came in instead, acting as though he had not seen the texts. He felt a little sick with panic, and turned the TV on low, to make Sadie think everything was normal—he always watched TV for a bit after she went to bed.

In reality, Bucky was pacing his living room and trying to remember how to breathe.

_Steve isn't Brock,_ he reminded himself, _this doesn't have to be the same. I don't even have to say_ yes _. Steve's a little pushy, I'm not dumb enough not to notice, but he's trying to give me space, which means he gets points for that, right? Or is that wrong?_

Bucky brought his fists up to his eyes, and tried to keep his scream inside. He couldn't scare Sadie—he _wouldn't_.

“Okay,” Bucky murmured to himself as he breathed deeply, “I'm here, I'm real, my memories of _him_ can't hurt me...”

Bucky reached for the sofa and brushed his fingers across the cotton-poly blend of its upholstery. He could feel the spots where Pistachio had clawed holes in the grey fabric.

He then touched the wall, feeling the paint—painfully cheap smoky blue paint, which seemed to almost cling to his fingers as he touched it.

Bucky moved to the banister of the staircase. Smooth, varnished wood, of a kind he couldn't remember the name of, but stained a deep caramel colour.

It was a trick his therapist had taught him for coming down from panic attacks and mild dissociative episodes. It helped Bucky remind himself that the past could not hurt him, and the tactile sensation of his surroundings always helped him remember where he was.

Sometimes, he would have to go into the kitchen and smell the good coffee (which Brock wouldn't allow in the house for reasons Bucky never quite understood) or eat some mint chocolate (yet another thing that Bucky could not bring into the house without fear that Brock would rage over it) to bring him down, but this time it seemed as though the touch was enough.

With a soft, exhausted sigh, Bucky shuffled into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea and snag some cookies from the cookie jar before he headed back into the living room and changed the TV from the news to BBC Earth. Nature Documentaries always calmed him when nothing else could.

In between bites of his cookies, sips of tea, and learning way more about dung beetles than he'd bargained for, he glanced to his phone again.

No new messages had arrived since Steve's last one. It had barely been two hours, but that alone told Bucky that he might've been serious about not pushing. If it had been Brock, he would have blown up Bucky's phone with _way_ more texts by now.

 

_Where are you?_

_What are you doing?_

_Who are you with?_

 

Bucky shivered. The constant check-ins were a telltale sign to Becca, and she even had the good grace to not tell Bucky, _I told you so_ , when he showed up on her doorstep with a bloody nose that _last time_ , along with an unharmed if shellshocked three-year-old cradled in his arms.

_Stop thinking about it,_ Bucky admonished himself with a small shake of his head. _What good is obsessing over Brock and comparing him to Steve? Brock is not Steve—definitely not, that's for damn sure. Sadie would never have warmed up to Steve as fast as she did had that been the case._

Bucky's gaze shifted to the TV screen, and he tried to focus. They were on an episode about birds now, and the raptor calls were thoroughly freaking Pistachio out, as he got on his hind legs to watch the TV with Bucky, rather than climb on the sofa with him.

Quickly, he glanced back down to his phone.

Still, no new messages.

Somewhat heartened by this discovery, Bucky shifted his gaze back to the TV. Curled up under his blanket, sipping his tea, and he focused on the TV as he felt the last dregs of his panic attack slowly drain away.

When he at last felt calm again, Bucky scooped up his phone, _Old Reliable_ , as Becca called it, unlocked it, and added Steve's number to his contacts before he began to draft a response.

 

**Bucky – 10:03pm**

_hey, sry for not responding. was putting sade to bed._

**Bucky – 10:05pm**

_you def werent pushy, i just wasnt expecting it. its a thing. dont wanna talk about it._

**Bucky – 10:07pm**

_i like you, steve, but i think i need some time, ok? youre nice, and youre GREAT with sadie, but i got shit in my life, you get that, right? im just not in relationship mode rn._

**Bucky – 10:09pm**

_but friends are a good start if youre still cool with that?_

 

Bucky eased back and tossed his phone aside. Already his hands were shaking, and he looked up at the program again. Now, they were talking about arctic foxes.

At the same time, his phone lit up again.

With a cookie perched in his mouth, Bucky reached for his phone to check Steve's response.

 

**Steve – 10:12pm**

_I'm definitely okay with that :) See you tomorrow, Bucky. Have a good night._

 

And with that, all communication stopped for the night.

Bucky was amazed, and abandoned his nature show several times to check and be certain, but there it was, clear as day— _nothing_.

Perhaps to other people in his age bracket, it would seem almost disheartening to see one's crush (who was definitely _not_ a crush, Bucky reminded himself) _not_ text back, but to Bucky, it was a relief.

It was so many things. Bucky listed them over and over in is head, and could not help but smile.

_Every day's a learning day_ , as he often said to Sadie.

And today, he'd learnt that he could _trust_ Steve Rogers.

 


	6. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for June 2nd. Enjoy!

Chapter Six – Breakfast

 

Getting Sadie ready for school was always about as fun as poking a bear with a stick, in Bucky's estimation. Unfortunately, the promise of starting her day with a dog did not help to get Sadie up any faster.

“Nooo, Daddy...” she whined, tugging her blanket up over her head while Pistachio meowed and tried to burrow under the blanket with his best friend.

“C'mon, baby,” Bucky coaxed, giving her another little shake. “Breakfast is almost ready, and if you take too long, you won't have time to go see Bea before we have to go to school.”

“What's for Breakfast, Daddy?” Sadie asked, her voice sleepy and muffled from under her blanket, and Bucky smiled to himself.

“Your favourite—oatmeal and raisins!”

“ _Yuck!_ ” Sadie made a gagging sound, and Bucky snorted. “What's _really_ for breakfast?”

“Blueberry waffles,” Bucky replied, and tugged down the blanket so that he could see her sleepy little face. “Come on, upsie-daisy, or you won't have time to eat.”

With more whining and complaining, Bucky got Sadie out of bed and into her school clothes—jeans, a pink T-shirt, and a purple hoodie, and she shuffled downstairs where her breakfast was already on the table and waiting for her—homemade waffles studded with blueberries, and orange juice in a sippy cup.

Sadie perked up slowly over her food while Bucky stood behind her and brushed out her long dark hair before he styled it into two braided pigtails. Sadie didn't say much as she ate, and they listened to the classic rock station on the radio. Once Bucky finished doing her hair, he sat and joined his daughter with a cup of coffee, a waffle of his own, and his meds, while Sadie continued to yawn intermittently between bites of food.

“Daddy, I don't think I should go to school today,” she said, “I'm too sleepy.”

“Sure you are, baby,” Bucky said and reached out to give her an awkward half-hug from his seat next to her. “Definitely too sleepy. You should probably stay home.”

“Really?” Sadie asked hopefully, and Bucky smirked a little to himself.

“Yeah, sure. You can definitely stay home if you're too sleepy. _But_ that also means you're too sleepy to go say hi to Bea.”

Sadie opened her mouth to respond, then paused, biting her lip as she poked at her half finished waffle. She stuffed a syrup-soaked piece into her mouth, her little brow pinched, as though she was trying to come up with a good argument for why she should get to see the dog anyway.

“But...Bea is a _lot_ closer than school!” Sadie said at last, “I'm not too sleepy to walk next door. School is _really far_.”

“Two blocks ain't far, but nice try,” Bucky said as he smiled at his daughter. “Come on, eat up. I know you don't wanna go, but you always have fun when you get there.”

Sadie grumbled indistinctly, and went back to her breakfast.

 

~*~

 

The visit to Bea that morning was entertaining for a number of reasons—chief among them, Bucky got to see Steve when he didn't look picture-perfect, and yet, somehow, he still looked downright _edible_.

Steve answered the door in his pyjamas. The blue and white plaid pyjama pants hung dangerously low on his hips, and he wore a white T-shirt with a star on it that would have been loose on anyone else, but his muscular frame made it hug every curve of his body, and gave Bucky a rather delightful image to log away for later use.

Not that he would, of course, but just in case such eye-candy was ever needed.

On top of it all, Steve's hair was mussed from sleep, and his fairer-than-usual complexion made it appear as though he'd woken up barely ten seconds ago.

“Oh, hey,” he said groggily, stifling a yawn, which made his shirt ride up a little, and Bucky fought hard to keep from staring. “I guess I didn't set my alarm early enough.”

“Steve, do you need a nap?” Sadie asked, and she giggled when Steve yawned again. “I wanted to sleep more too, but Daddy wouldn't let me.”

“Sorry we didn't warn you we were coming,” Bucky added in an effort to distract himself. “I'd assumed you were already up.”

“Next time warn me for sure, but it's fine,” Steve replied, smiling a little. “Come on, Miss Sadie, come say hi to Bea before you go off to school.”

Happily, Sadie scampered into the main area of the house, calling for the dog as she went, leaving the two adults behind on Steve's doorstep.

“So, um...” Steve began, his voice still groggy, and he laughed, lifting a hand to the back of his neck, as he always seemed to do when he was embarrassed. “Sorry about last night...the text spam. I babble when I'm nervous.”

“It's fine,” Bucky replied awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot as he glanced up into Steve's eyes, and like always, Steve was regarding him with a soft, puppy-dog sort of expression, free of the malice he'd grown used to seeing with Brock. “I was putting Sadie to bed when you were texting me, which is why I couldn't answer right away, like I said.”

As far as lies went, it wasn't _completely_ untrue, but it still left a bad taste in Bucky's mouth. Lying to Steve felt oddly _wrong,_ like lying to the Rabbi (who, of course, had been great friends with his parents) during the seder, when he snuck more latkes from the table than he was allowed.

“Um...so...taking Sadie to school, huh?” Steve ventured, and Bucky wanted to cringe at how painfully awkward the conversation was shaping up to be. “Is it far?”

“Couple blocks,” Bucky replied, doing his best to act casual. “Riverside Elementary. It takes me maybe...ten minutes each way? I usually walk Sadie there—the exercise is good for us.”

“Well...” Steve paused and eyed Bucky uncertainly, almost like one might gaze at an unpredictable wild animal. He didn't know how he felt about that, either. “It looks like I've got an early start today, and I thought I'd make myself a nice _big_ breakfast, you know? I could probably eat it all myself, but there'd be plenty to share...you know, for two. And...well...it'd probably take me about twenty minutes to get everything ready, you know, if someone was tempted to join me to eat. I got a real nice back deck, nice an open, no barriers, no pressure, you know?”

Bucky stared at Steve, half-tempted to count how many times the alpha had actually said _you know?_ but he curbed the impulse as he took in what he was seeing—the nervousness, the almost painfully awkward phrasing, giving as many outs for Bucky as Steve could reasonably think of, assuming Bucky didn't want to pick up on the glaringly obvious hints...

However, beyond Bucky's knee-jerk impulse to refuse any proposition to him made by an alpha, and the niggling panic at the idea of being alone with not _just_ an alpha, but a veritable stranger, Steve seemed to think of that too when he'd mentioned his back deck—it was an open space where Bucky would not feel trapped.

Without Bucky telling Steve hardly anything of his past, Steve had somehow thought of practically _everything_.

“Breakfast sounds great,” Bucky said at last, offering Steve a tentative smile, and Steve positively _beamed_ in response.

 

~*~

 

Though prying Sadie off of the dog had been about as much fun as pulling teeth, after that, the walk to school went relatively smoothly as it always did on weekdays.

Sadie skipped at Bucky's side, pausing occasionally to look at a stray cat or an unknown insect, or ask what sort of flowers were in other people's gardens that they passed. Bucky was once more reminded of Sadie's endearing natural curiosity, and he prayed that he'd be able to properly encourage her towards the sciences as she got older—she'd do so well as a biologist or conservationist.

_But I won't push,_ Bucky thought to himself, _Ma made me do Economics instead of Theatre, and I hated the fuck out of it. I won't make her do something she really doesn't want to do, but I'll definitely encourage her interest in nature for as long as it lasts._

The positive end to his train of thought fizzled out just as they reached the gates of the school, and he crouched down to give his daughter a big hug, which she happily returned.

“I'll see you at lunchtime, okay, honey?” Bucky asked, giving her back a quick rub. “Anything special you want?”

“Can we go to Steve's house for lunch, Daddy?” she immediately asked, and Bucky was caught between a desire to groan and laugh. Had his daughter been any older, he would have been _convinced_ that she was trying to set him up.

“I'll ask him, okay? Behave, listen to your teachers, and have a good day.”

With one last quick hug, Sadie rushed for the doors as the bell tolled, and Bucky watched her until she'd gone inside, disappearing along with her classmates.

Bucky lingered a moment longer, smiling faintly as he watched the children all scamper for the school doors, and laughed when Sadie poked her head back out, waving enthusiastically as she called, “ _I love you, Daddy!_ ”

“ _I love you too, baby!_ ” Bucky called back to her, his heart swelling as he watched his girl rush back inside, chattering animatedly with one of her classmates as she went.

Once Bucky was certain that Sadie would not rush back out, he turned and headed back the way he'd come, stuffing his hand into his pocket as he went.

_Should I bring something?_ Bucky wondered as he headed towards home, chewing the inside of his cheek as he moved. _For definitely-just-friends-brunch-things, bringing something is a thing, right?_

Bucky slowed to a stop as his eyes found a bakery called _Sur la Table_ , and made a split-second decision, barely looking both ways before he raced across the street and towards the bakery.

 

~*~

 

“I brought Painful Chocolate,” Bucky said the second Steve opened the door, and he blinked.

“Come again?”

“Painful Chocolate,” Bucky repeated, holding out the bakery bag to him.

Steve, still looking mildly perplexed, accepted the bag, opened it, and immediately began to laugh.

“What?” Bucky demanded, his eyes widening a little. “Are they like...rancid or something?”

“No, you dork,” Steve said between warm chuckles, “it's _Pain au Chocolat,_ not Painful Chocolate. It means Chocolate Bread.”

“I knew that,” Bucky mumbled, turning a deep crimson, and Steve offered him a small half-smile.

“Sure you did, Buck,” Steve said. “It's fine, you look really adorable when you're embarrassed, anyway.”

Steve smirked, the expression almost coy, and without another word he turned around and headed farther into the house.

_Okay, maybe more than just friends..._ Bucky thought to himself as he stepped into the front door and toed his shoes off, while Bea wandered into the hall, but seemed to sag in disappointment when she noticed that Bucky was alone.

“Sorry, girl,” Bucky apologized as he reached out to pat her head. “No Sadie this time.”

The dog looked around his legs, and Bucky laughed a little as he kept walking, and Bea followed him, not quite whimpering at her missing friend, but she did seem distinctly dejected at Sadie's absence.

Inside the kitchen, Bucky's senses were assaulted by all the smells of breakfast food, including good coffee in a fancy black french press. Steve was in the middle of plucking store-bought waffles from the toaster, and on the table upon the back deck, Bucky could see a tub of margarine, syrup, and ketchup. On the stove, eggs and bacon were sizzling away, and Bucky arched a dubious brow at Steve.

“You _do_ remember that I'm Jewish, right?” Bucky asked, and at almost the same moment Steve burned the edge of his hand on the toaster oven.

“Ow, _shit!_ ” he hissed as he hastily transported the last waffle to the platter, and shook his hand absent-mindedly while he replied, “yeah, Buck, I remembered, why?”

“Bacon,” Bucky said pointedly, arching his brow, and Steve, far from look dejected, actually had the nerve to _grin_.

“Turkey bacon, actually,” Steve replied, and pulled out the half-empty package from the fridge as evidence. “And I even bought soy milk for our coffee, the waffles and margarine are non-dairy, and I used vegetable oil to fry the eggs. I tried to find Kosher turkey bacon, but I'm not sure if that's a thing that exists.”

“It exists,” Bucky confirmed, smiling a little as he watched Steve flit around the kitchen, tending to the eggs and bacon, checking them and transferring them to a paper towel-lined platter. The _Pain au Chocolat_ that Bucky had brought were already out, sitting on a platter alongside the waffles. “But there's a lot of controversy about it if you're more strict in your faith, since it was originally a pork product and stuff.”

“Did I mess up by buying it?” Steve asked uncertainly, and Bucky smiled a little as he shook his head.

“Nah, me and Sade have it sometimes,” Bucky confirmed, and Steve visibly relaxed.

“Oh, good,” Steve said, and offered Bucky another sweet smile. “Everything's ready, so if you wanna go sit outside, I'll bring everything out.”

“Need a hand?” Bucky asked lightly, and Steve rolled his lips together, as though he wasn't certain whether or not he was allowed to laugh at the dumb, self-deprecating joke.

“I'm good,” he replied at last, “just go sit down, let me be a real alpha for once and serve an omega properly, kay?”

Bucky's stomach twisted a little, conflicted, hearing a memory of Brock's words overlap Steve's attempt at being chivalrous.

“ _I dunno why the fuck you joined the Army if you're with me. An omega's place is in the home, not at war.”_

“You know,” Bucky said, giving himself a little shake as he followed Steve outside, “I'm not some...some...weak little omega who needs to be looked after. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“Oh, of course you can!” Steve said, apparently missing the lilt of warning in Bucky's tone, and had his arms not been full of plates, Bucky had the distinct impression that Steve would have been gesticulating wildly. “It's not even a _question_ that you can take care of yourself! I mean, look at Sadie, she's such a good kid, always in the most adorable outfits, you and her are always cleaned up and you both look so put-together whenever I see you. It's obvious you're great at taking care of not just yourself, but her too. I can't even _imagine_ how rough it must be to be a single father, especially a single omega when alphas are always so shitty when it comes to omega rights and stuff like that.

“But that's not what this is about,” Steve continued with a kind smile. “It's just...you're my guest, and an omega, and I thought it'd be nice to have someone wait on _you_ for a change. I know how a lot of Alpha and Omega relationships tend to go, where the omega stays home with the babies and the alpha goes off to work, like some sort of couple out of the forties. I didn't mean that I think of you as a lesser person because of your designation; I mean, you look pretty strong to me, and could probably bench-press a truck if you wanted to. I don't know many alphas who would be stupid enough to try and imply you of all people were weak, or couldn't take care of yourself.”

“Clearly you haven't met my ex,” Bucky mumbled as he sat down at the table, and his words were met with a strained silence.

“He...was Sadie's dad? Or, other dad?” Steve hedged as he set out some of the plates down. Bucky still felt a little odd about being waited on like this, but he let Steve do it—just this once.

“He was the sperm donor, yes,” Bucky replied stiffly when Steve came back with the rest of the plates, and immediately the pair began to serve themselves. Bucky made a point of taking a lot of the turkey bacon, which made Steve smile, while Steve took two of the pastries that Bucky had brought. At the same time, he still appeared mildly confused by Bucky's phrasing, and he elaborated. “He was an abusive ass, and yes, he was _technically_ Sadie's dad, but he hasn't seen her in almost three years. I don't want to discuss it.”

“Oh.”

Steve went quiet, and picked at food, as though he didn't know how to unstick his foot from his mouth. Bucky grimaced, and fought the urge to glare at the alpha.

The big, stupid, handsome alpha, who was trying to be nice, and Bucky apparently had adopted the manners of an angry porcupine.

“I'm sorry,” Bucky said at last, heaving a sigh as he filled up the coffee mug in front of him, and took a long, fortifying sip. “It was bad, and the only person I really talk to about it is my therapist. Even then, it's hard to talk about. He was...not nice.”

“I'm sorry I brought it up,” Steve said, and it sounded as though he truly meant it, and even had the courtesy to not point out that _technically_ Bucky was the one to mention Brock in the first place.

“It's fine,” Bucky replied, shrugging a little, despite the fact that it was definitely _not_ fine.

“So...um...” Steve began, clearly trying to find a new subject to discuss, while Bucky tried to be polite, and stabbed at the bacon with his fork, but quickly realized that the stuff was too overcooked to work with a fork, and he opted for his fingers instead.

“You got family?” Bucky asked, the question escaping him more like a demand, and less like an idle question. He winced, and rephrased it. “I—I mean, do you have any brothers or sisters or anything?”

“Just my mom now,” Steve replied, smiling faintly. “Dad died about a year ago—prostate cancer.”

“Jeez, that's awful,” Bucky replied, thinking of Steve's ex, who he had also lost to cancer.

“It wasn't as bad as Peggy,” Steve said, smiling a little. “We found out pretty late—my dad was one of those people who put off going to the doctor unless it was real serious, even with our insurance and everything; it wasn't a cash thing. But he was around for...maybe a week? He went real quick, but him and mom had me when they were older, and he had a real good life so I'm not as sad about it.”

“Is your mom doing okay?” Bucky asked curiously, uncertain if he was even _allowed_ to ask, but Steve seemed so open and genuine, it was hard to imagine that Steve would close down in response to practically anything.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, smiling sadly. “She's living with a friend of a friend, May Parker and her nephew Peter, in Queens. Peter's at NYU for Entomology.”

“No shit,” Bucky said with a short laugh. “Man, Sade would _love_ him. She's insanely into bugs.”

“Even spiders?” Steve asked with a laugh, “I swear, that kid's room is a biohazard, he has like...four terrariums with enormous spiders in them.”

“Even spiders,” Bucky confirmed with a shudder. “Usually it's Sadie who gets rid of the spiders in our house, or, more accurately, catches them and puts them in containers. There was this _monster_ wood spider in our basement one time, and it was like her birthday had come early when I let her go to town catching the damn thing. I was too much of a wuss to even _touch_ it.”

“Sending the five-year-old to face off against a spider,” Steve said with a snort as he began to laugh, “oh, I _love_ that mental image.”

“Speaking of Sadie...” Bucky hedged, sipping his coffee again while Steve continued to chuckle a little at Bucky's story.

“Yeah?”

“Um...well, when I drop her off at kindergarten, I always ask her what she wants for lunch, you know?”

“Uh huh...” Steve replied, raising a brow.

“Well, she sort of asked to come here for lunch, and I told her I'd ask you,” Bucky explained in a rush, feeling his embarrassment mount when he went red, which only worsened when Steve started to laugh.

“Oh, is _that_ all?” Steve asked. “Of course she can come for lunch! That kid is adorable, and I know Bea will be real happy to see her. What does she like? I'm not a half-bad cook, but I do a lot of store-bought stuff 'cause I'm lazy...”

Steve continued to babble, listing what he had in his fridge, and he seemed genuinely excited about seeing Bucky's daughter again.

Bucky felt a warmth bloom in his chest as he gazed over his coffee cup at Steve. The big dumb guy was so _earnest_ , and without Bucky having even to say it in so many words, Steve seemed to understand how important Sadie was to him. Unlike Bucky's ex, who was Sadie's _actual father_ , Steve never acted like Sadie was a burden, or somehow in the way.

_Oh yeah, I like this guy_ , Bucky thought, and for the first time, the idea of his attraction to Steve did not frighten him in the least.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just so you guys know(I can't remember if I've stated this before or not), I am an ex-Catholic and current Pagan, and have very little personal knowledge of Judaism, though I do my best to keep stuff accurate. That being said, if there are any mistakes please let me know. :)


	7. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for June 16th.
> 
> **Please Note That Endgame Spoilers Are Coming!**   
> In chapters 11-12, a vague endgame spoiler will appear. You have been warned.

Chapter Seven – Decisions

 

When Bucky headed home later— _much later_ —he had a stupid smile on his face that he seemed wholly unable of getting rid of. Worse, he was only half-listening to Sadie as she told him about all the fun things she did at school that day, as evidenced by the red paint still stuck under her fingernails.

Bucky, however, was still stuck on his day with Steve.

After their breakfast, Bucky hadn't wanted to go home, and they ended up sitting outside together, sipping fancy carbonated lime water and talking about _everything._ Steve made a point of not bringing up his service or Brock, and Bucky, in turn, made a point of not mentioning Steve's service or Peggy.

At lunchtime, Bucky walked to Sadie's school to pick her up, and brought her back to Steve's place for Mac n' Cheese. The combination of one of her favourite foods and her favourite dog elated her, moreso when Steve took her out into the yard and showed her how to throw tennis balls for Bea, which was unfortunately cut short when Bea ploughed right through Steve's burgeoning vegetable patch, and the ridiculous alpha raced to save his baby vegetables.

After lunch, Bucky walked Sadie back to school, but instead of heading home like he was supposed to, he helped Steve garden.

The man filled most of the flower beds with blooms that Bucky had never even _heard_ of, which wasn't saying much, given that he had something of a black thumb. Steve on the other hand seemed to know the name of every single plant in his garden, even the wild stuff, and half his backyard was devoted to vegetables. Most of them were presently nothing more than small green tufts, nowhere near ready to pick, but Steve had promised a big dinner for them all when it came time to start harvesting.

When it was time to pick Sadie up for the last time that day, Bucky found himself almost reluctant to leave. It had been a long time since he'd felt so at ease around another person, and literally years since he'd felt so comfortable in front of an alpha of any kind, _especially_ someone like Steve.

 

“ _You could always come back for dinner,” Steve had teased, his tone light, but carrying a lilt of hope to it._

“ _I better not,” Bucky admitted with a weak laugh. “During the week I try to keep Sadie home in the evenings, to keep her schedule kind of regular, you know?”_

“ _Okay,” Steve replied, without even a hint of disappointment in his tone—like he didn't hold Bucky's need to keep Sadie's home life steady against him. “Would it be okay if I texted you, though?”_

“ _Sure,” Bucky replied, and he felt a shiver course through him when Steve smiled That Smile at him—like a human golden retriever. “But...um...Sadie is sort of...she keeps me pretty busy, but after her bedtime around seven I can respond quicker, if that makes sense?”_

“ _Yeah,” Steve replied with another smile. “Totally.”_

 

“Daddy, are you _listening?_ ”

Sadie's voice shook Bucky from his daydream and he glanced down at his daughter, who had her bottom lip poked out in an exaggerated pout.

“Of course I am,” Bucky replied at once, “come on, baby, keep telling me about your day. And, if you take your shoes off at the door _instead_ of the middle of the hall, I'll even get you a snack.”

Sadie toed her shoes off while she asked, “do we have hot choc-a-late?”

Bucky chuckled, smiling at the way Sadie enunciated _chocolate,_ and nodded his head.

“We still have some left, but hot chocolate is more of a cold weather sort of drink. Do you still want some?”

“Yes, please!” Sadie chirped, and Bucky laughed again as the pair of them headed for the kitchen, where Bucky set the kettle to boil and pulled a packet of Oreos from the pantry, along with two envelopes of hot chocolate mix and some marshmallows.

“So, you painted, and learned your ABCs some more...what else did you learn?” Bucky asked while he waited on the hot water, while Sadie climbed onto one of the chairs at their kitchen table, where she began to swing her legs back and forth cheerily.

“One of the big kids showed me a new word,” she chirped, and Bucky snorted.

“Yeah? What word?” Bucky asked as he thought, _oh, this is gonna be good._

“ _Snart!_ ” she said happily, and Bucky laughed.

“Okay, what is _snart_?”

“It's when you sneeze and fart at the same time,” she explained proudly. “I think I did that once, but I can't 'member.”

_More like shart,_ Bucky thought with an amused smile, _when you were a baby, you were excellent at sharting all over me_.

Sadie continued to talk while Bucky poured the hot water for their hot chocolate, stopping halfway on Sadie's in order to add some cold milk to cool it down a little for her. He topped them off with a generous handful of mini marshmallows before he plated two Oreo cookies each, and slowly transported everything over to their little kitchen table.

“And did you have fun with Steve today, too?” Bucky asked as they dug into their chocolatey snacks, and Sadie smiled, nodding happily, her teeth dotted with cookie crumbs.

“Steve's nice, Daddy. I think you should marry him.”

Unfortunately, Bucky had been in the middle of sipping his hot chocolate when Sadie spoke, and his eyes watered as the hot beverage flew out his nose, making him choke and cough.

“ _Marry_ him?” Bucky rasped. “What makes you say _that_?”

“Daddy, what's wrong?” Sadie asked, her eyes widening a little with concern. “My teacher, Mrs. Luft, she said that when you like someone, and they're nice, you marry them. She also said only grown-ups could get married for real, so if I can't marry Steve, you should. Okay?”

“Let's give it a little time, okay?” Bucky asked, laughing weakly as he reached for a napkin to mop up his face with.

“But, Daddy!” Sadie cried, “what if Steve marries somebody _else_? You _can't_ wait! You have to shoot his weenie!”

“I have to _what_?” Bucky sputtered, caught between horror at his daughter's words, and a deep desire to laugh.

“Shoot his weenie!” Sadie repeated, her voice taking on a knowledgable tone, and she rolled her eyes at her silly Daddy's lack of understanding. “Clarissa told me about it, she's really smart. She said that when grown-ups get married real fast, its when you shoot his weenie.”

“Oh, honey...” Bucky said with a snort as he gave in, and buried his face in his hand as he began to laugh, tears streaming from his eyes. “Shotgun _wedding_. When two people get married quickly, it's called a shotgun _wedding_. You don't shoot any weenies.”

“Are you sure, Daddy?” she asked, and still laughing, Bucky lifted his gaze to his daughter, who was gazing at him uncertainly. Bucky wiped his eyes, trying earnestly to get control of his laughter, but it was much more difficult than he expected it to be.

“Yes, I'm sure,” Bucky said, his voice still quivering a little with mirth.

_Shoot his weenie,_ he thought as he started to giggle again. _Oh, I am_ never _gonna forget that one._

 

_~*~_

 

**Bucky – 12:14am**

_if my daughter tries to nail you in the nads the next time she sees you im only vaguely sorry_

**Steve – 12:17am**

_Uh, what?_

**Bucky – 12:18am**

_clarissa sades best friend told her today that when adults have a fast wedding you 'shoot his weenie' instead of a shotgun wedding_

**Bucky – 12:20am**

_i died_

**Bucky – 12:20am**

_like super dead_

**Steve – 12:25am**

_What even are kids these days XD_

**Steve – 12:30am**

_Was that a proposal? ;)_

**Steve – 12:31am**

_Because I -might- say yes, if there are brownies involved._

**Bucky – 12:32am**

_buy me a drink first_

 

Bucky sent off the last text without really thinking about the context, and blushing furiously, he crammed the phone under his pillow. The absence of the device did little to quell his embarrassment, and with a groan he tugged his blankets up past his shoulders and tried to go to sleep.

Distantly, Bucky was _sure_ that he could hear someone laughing.

 

~*~

 

The rest of the week passed in much the same way.

Some mornings, they breakfasted with Steve and Bea, and other times they didn't. Bucky texted Steve probably more than was wise. Sometimes, they flirted.

And sometimes, a very rare sometimes, Bucky ended the late-night texting sessions by putting away his phone and touching himself. He thought of a big and broad but gentle alpha with blond hair and blue eyes, who _definitely_ wasn't Steve.

 

By Friday, Bucky knew that he was in way too deep, and it was only a matter of time before things began to evolve.

Trouble was, he didn't know if he wanted them to.

 

Bucky was sitting in the parking lot of a small, three-storey redbrick building in the middle of Manhattan. The three-hour drive back to New York City had been fairly uneventful, save for spotting a fox on the side of the road. Still seated in his car, his phone was in hand, and Bucky was tapping out a quick message to his sister.

 

**Bucky – 11:54am**

_dont forget youre picking up sadie_ _for lunch and then after school_

**Bucky – 11:54am**

_if i get a panicked call from the school saying no one picked her up ill be real mad_

**Becca – 11:55am**

_Yeah, yeah, I remember. Go fix your brain, helicopter dad._

 

Bucky rolled his eyes as he stuffed away his phone. He climbed out of the car, locked it, and headed for the building, his mouth twisted in a grimace of annoyance at Becca's words. He _wasn't_ a helicopter dad.

Bucky climbed to the second floor, signed in with the secretary, and muttered a quick, “noon appointment with Doctor Wilson,” before he sat down in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, and picked up a magazine at random. He nearly threw up in his mouth when he saw himself holding _Omega's Weekly_ , and he hastily exchanged it for _Rolling Stone_.

“Bucky?”

Bucky glanced up and smiled when he saw his therapist, Sam Wilson, poking his head out of his office.

Despite having been out of the city for three years, Bucky intended to keep Sam as his therapist for as long as he could. Sure, there were therapists who _didn't_ live three hours away from him, but Sam had been the only one with military experience willing to take him on after learning that he'd been dishonourably discharged for concealing the fact that he was an omega.

That, more than anything else, was what encouraged Bucky to keep coming back.

“Hey, hi,” Bucky said, laughing weakly when he realized too late that he'd repeated himself, and tossed aside the magazine as he stood up. “Good to see you.”

“You too, man,” Sam replied with a welcoming smile. “C'mon, I got some of that coffee you like, and we can have a good talk.”

Bucky followed Sam into his office, relaxed by the calming atmosphere of the space. It bore a soft cream rug, nature photography on the walls, and a tea tree oil diffuser Sam always had going, which he used to diminish the scents of the alphas and betas who usually occupied his couch. Paired with Sam's calming beta scent, it was a pleasant place to work on his mental health.

Sam offered Bucky a cup of the coffee, and Bucky accepted it with a nod, then laughed when Sam also pressed on him a honey crueller from an oversized box that had been perched on top of his filing cabinet.

“So,” Sam said, slapping his knees after he sat down, then grabbed his own coffee cup. “Tell me what's been going on with you.”

“It's been a hectic two weeks,” Bucky admitted with a short laugh.

“Two out of the four weeks since our last meeting were hectic?” Sam asked, and Bucky smiled.

“Yeah.” Bucky paused to sip his coffee. “I sort of...maybe met someone.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam asked, “and how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly? I don't know,” Bucky replied, and laughed a little. “I mean, he seems...too perfect.”

“Lots of people tend to hide their flaws until they get to know someone better,” Sam offered. “It doesn't make them a bad person; usually it just means they want you to like them.”

“Isn't that like...emotional manipulation?”

“It can be,” Sam conceded, nodding his head a little. “But most of the time it just means he wants you to like him, and sometimes people have a habit of being... _all or nothing_. They go all in on people or things they like, and are just so genuine that they really _are_ that good. A buddy of mine is like that.”

“Sounds kinda like this guy,” Bucky mused. “He's just so...well, like you said, _genuine_. I mean, I've only known him for maybe two weeks, but he's just...practically perfect. I mean, I'm not sure if he's the best cook, because a ton of the food he makes is pre-made stuff, but he's amazing with Sadie, and he's just so nice to me, even though he made it pretty clear right outta the gate that he likes me, he hasn't been pushy about it, except for a comment here and there. I just feel like...maybe I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

“Do you think the reason you're expecting something negative from him is because of your last relationship?”

Bucky grimaced.

“Probably. Brock was...well... _you know_. Former Marine, Private Security asshole who wanted a soft, dainty omega, but somehow decided that _had_ to be me. He got pissed when I joined the Army, took it out on Sadie, I was deployed _way_ sooner than I expected, and Brock was drinking so much that I left our six-month-old with my sister, and his drinking got so bad that she had to get a restraining order...”

Bucky trailed off, only vaguely aware that he was babbling. Sam had heard all of this before, of course, along with Bucky's _stupid_ decision to go back to Brock after he got home.

After that, it had taken Bucky two years and two more tours to smarten up and _finally_ leave Brock for good.

“But Steve isn't like that,” Bucky said, and he felt the colour rise in his cheeks at how _twitterpated_ , for lack of a better word, he sounded. “He's just so...so...I feel like he'd be everything I think that he is, but I'm fucking _terrified_ of going in, only to find out that he's another Brock, you know? I can't put Sadie through that again.”

“The only thing you got on your side is time, Bucky,” Sam said patiently. “No one is telling you to rush into anything with this guy, and if you're worried about Sadie, well, a lot of single parents give it some time before they bring their kids into the mix, just to give them some stability so that there isn't a new guy in their life every other week.”

“It's a little hard, 'cause Sadie _adores_ Steve, and he's our new neighbour,” Bucky replied with a weak laugh. “We met him literally the day he moved in, and Sadie is just...in love.”

_We both kind of are,_ Bucky thought, and he smiled softly to himself.

“Just give yourself some time, Bucky, don't rush yourself just to make Sadie happy,” Sam advised, “you gotta be good to you, and something tells me this guy won't mind much if you chose to take a step back and be sure before you dive in, that's all I'm saying.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, even though privately he already felt like he was in too deep.

If something _did_ happen, Bucky knew with little doubt that he'd probably be okay with it.

 

~*~

 

Bucky exited his therapy session feeling exhausted. After he got out of the office, he immediately drove out to Brooklyn to visit all his old restaurant haunts. He picked up bagels, as well as all the good deli food that he could find—chopped chicken liver, smoked meat sandwiches, good-quality sauerkraut and dill pickles, and he even took a trip out to Little Odessa for some hot Russian mustard—all the foods that Sadie would hate, and Bucky would devour.

After a visit with his therapist, good food always seemed to cure his cloudy brain.

 

By the time Bucky got back to Albany it was pushing six o'clock. He was wiped, and after he sent a quick text to Becca, asking her to bring Sadie home whenever she wanted, he unpacked the car of his purchases.

Halfway through pulling the bags from his trunk, he spotted Steve sitting on his front step, sipping something out of an oversized mug, with Bea lounging in the grass not far from him.

“Hey, you,” Steve called when he saw Bucky, and got up to head over to him, but he stopped not far from the property line. “Shopping day?”

“Food Therapy,” Bucky replied with a small smirk. “My therapist is in the city, so I made a few pit stops after, at my favourite Brooklyn deli, bagel shop, and at M&I in Little Odessa...”

Steve's eyes seemed to light up at Bucky's mention of New York City, and he smiled in a nostalgic sort of way at him.

“Sounds like you got a real feast in there,” Steve said, “is Sadie gonna steal anything from you?”

“The bagels, maybe, if I don't hide 'em,” Bucky replied with a short laugh, “but the chicken liver is _all mine_.”

“I had no clue you ate like a little Jewish grandma,” Steve teased, and Bucky snorted, but did not find himself overly upset by the comment.

“Just for that, Rogers, I won't share,” Bucky retorted, and Steve smiled, one of his charming, amused sort of smiles that made Bucky feel weak in the knees. Bucky offered him a grin of his own, and, not really knowing what else to do, he moved to offer up some sort of goodbye when Steve suddenly lifted a hand, as though to stop him.

“Hey, um...I was wondering...” Steve began, his face flushing red as he babbled, and Bucky raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah...?”

“Um, well...I was wondering...well...” Steve laughed, and tried again. “I was thinking...maybe you'd like to go out sometime?”

“You mean like...you, me, 'n Sadie?”

“Uh, no, I mean...just you,” Steve said, and his eyes widened a little, as though he'd uttered some sort of horrible curse and quickly began to babble, maybe in a bid to clarify what he meant. “I mean, Sadie's a great kid, and I like her a whole lot, and I know that you and her are a package deal, I'd never ask you to put...anyone...above her, but I just...well...you know that I like you, and I was hoping we could go out sometime...like a date-date.”

“Oh.” Bucky bit his lip uncertainly, his conversation with Sam coming back to him as he stood there. “Um...Can I...Can I think about it?”

“Yeah! Oh, sure, yeah take all the time you need,” Steve said, visibly flustered, and possibly a little nervous, given how Bea had come up to him, and began to nose at his palm in a reassuring manner.

“Great.” Bucky smiled, nodding his head once. “I'll let you know.”

Bucky turned away, walked five steps towards his door before he made a rapid U-turn and raced back to Steve.

“Okay, I've thought about it, and we should definitely go on a date,” Bucky said in a rush, and Steve began to laugh.

“Okay, great. When do you want to go?” Steve asked, his eyes glimmering with joy, and Bucky felt his heart soar.

“Saturday?” Bucky offered, and Steve nodded his head.

“Saturday sounds _great_.”

 


	8. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for Tuesday, July 2nd. Updates are being moved to Mondays, but July 1st is a holiday here in Canada (Canada Day!), so my schedule for that week will be a little topsy-turvy.  
> 
> My Beta was on vacation this week, and I had a friend go over this chapter in their stead. Any major mistakes are on her :P. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: Abuse Flashbacks, Mild Dissociative Episode**

Chapter Eight – First Date

“How's this?” Bucky asked as he stepped out of his walk-in closet and gave himself a turn. Sadie narrowed her eyes, regarding his outfit with as much criticism as her little five-hear-old mind could muster.

“It's too  _ fancy _ , Daddy,” she complained, gazing at his suit with a slight frown. “Auntie Becca said you need to look pretty, so that Steve will think you're thirsty, 'member?”

Bucky snorted, thinking of Becca's remark on how he needed to convince Steve to buy him a few drinks, even after he told Becca that Steve promised not to take him to a bar.

“All right, honey, let me try again,” Bucky replied with a grin, and he disappeared back into his closet.

Bucky swapped the suit for a pair of tight black jeans, leather belt, his doc martens, and a tight black T-shirt before he stepped back out to get an expert opinion on his newest outfit choice.

“How 'bout now?” Bucky asked, and Sadie shook her head again.

“Uh-uh,” she replied, “too many black, Daddy.”

“Okay, um...” Bucky trailed off as he leant back into the closet, and picked up a red T-shirt, with a black outline of a star on the front. “This?”

“Yeah!”

 

~*~

 

“Damn,” Steve said with a low whistle as Bucky stepped outside, and tried to ignore the three faces of his daughter, sister, and niece pressed against the window, watching them. “Now I feel like I've dressed down too much.”

“You look great,” Bucky said as he drank in the sight of Steve in a pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt layered over with a brown leather jacket, despite the lack of need for it, given that it was a warm spring day. “You always look great.”

Steve blushed, while he pulled one arm out from behind his back, startling Bucky with a bouquet of pink tulips.

“Um...I wanted to get you lilies, but they're real bad for cats so the store clerk suggested these,” Steve explained in a rush as Bucky accepted the flowers, not quite certain what to say. No one had ever given him flowers before.

“Wow, um...thanks,” Bucky said, “they're...uh...nice.”

Bucky could have  _ kicked  _ himself for how lame that sounded.

“Let me just get these in some water, and we can get going, okay?”

“Take your time,” Steve replied, smiling at him as Bucky raced back inside briefly to pass the flowers to his sister, and pointedly ignored her whispered comments on how  _ hot  _ Steve was.

Oh, he knew.

He grinned without giving his baby sister a proper answer, fingered a wave, then hurried back outside where Steve was waiting.

 

“So, where are we going?” Bucky asked as he was led to Steve's dingy, beat-up, tan corolla, and he smiled when he spotted Bea curled up in the back seat.

“It's a secret,” Steve said as they both slipped into the front seats. The alpha offered Bucky one of his usual charming smiles before he inserted the key into the ignition, and they sped off.

“Well, can you give me a hint?” Bucky ventured, grinning a little as he glanced across the stick shift and to Steve, who merely smiled again.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the word as he voiced it, and grinned again. “Come on, it's gonna be fun, I promise, and there will be no alcohol involved.”

“All right, fine, my fate is in your hands,” Bucky replied, letting out a dramatic groan that made Steve laugh.

 

They drove for close to half an hour, sometimes chatting, sometimes listening to the radio. Steve seemed to favour an obnoxious pop station, and he hummed along cheerfully to the songs, while Bucky tried to not let his vague displeasure at this show on his face. Sure, it was cute to watch, but did it have to be  _ pop _ ?

_ Well, at least I know that Steve is human,  _ Bucky mused,  _ the guy's got at least one flaw _ .

 

Fifteen minutes later their destination began to loom on the horizon, and immediately Bucky began to laugh.

“A  _ carnival _ ?” he sputtered out, and Steve's grin widened.

“Better, a  _ travelling  _ carnival,” Steve replied. “Barely-legal rides, questionable food, stuffed animals to win...”

“I am  _ so  _ gonna kick your ass at the games, Rogers,” Bucky said. Steve threw his head back, and laughed.

“We'll see about that, Buck.”

 

Steve paid for their entry fee, and Bucky immediately bought them a bag of caramel corn to share. In part the act was to even them out, and in part it was something of a test, just to see what Steve might do to this show of an omega buying something for their alpha, which in a date setting wasn't considered completely proper.

Bucky knew that Brock would have gotten annoyed by such a gesture, and maybe he would have made a threat about  _ when they got home _ , knowing better than to punish Bucky for it in public.

In contrast, Steve merely gushed about how much he loved caramel corn, and crammed a huge handful in his mouth.

Bucky laughed, while inside he was kicking himself for the stupid stunt. He  _ needed  _ to stop comparing Steve to Brock.

 

The couple wove through the carnival with most of the caramel corn wrapped up in its plastic bag and stuffed in Bucky's tote bag, while Steve walked with Bea at his side.

A few people eyed them curiously, but Bucky could not discern whether this was from Bea's vest with the red cross on it, displaying her to be a service dog, or if it was from Bucky's missing arm, given that once again he'd opted to forego the use of his prosthetic. 

Bucky rotated his shoulders uncomfortably, and tried to not let it get to him.

Given that most of the rides were off-limits due to Bea, Steve and Bucky opted for the games instead. Bucky wanted to win something for Sadie, but saw no bumblebee stuffed animals.

Instead, Bucky found Sadie's second-favourite animal, a giant plush spider, and promptly paid the fee for the Ring Toss, and smirked as he immediately hit the jackpot without really trying, and promptly pointed out which prize he wanted.

“Damn, Bucky,” Steve said with an appreciative whistle as Bucky accepted the toy with a nod of thanks to the attendant, “good arm.” Immediately the alpha blanched, and Bucky fought hard to not roll his eyes at the reaction as Steve began to babble. “Uh. I mean—good throw? Oh, God, was ableist of me? I'm sorr—”

“Steve, shut the fuck up,” Bucky said with a warm laugh. “It's fine, I'm not mad.”

“Oh.” Steve blushed. “Good.”

“Come on, you punk,” Bucky said affectionately as he tried to tuck the stuffed animal into his bag, though it didn't really fit. “Let's see if you can at least  _ try  _ to win at the Shooting Range.”

 

Bucky didn't know how he'd fare at the Shooting Range, but given that he had been a sharpshooter during his stint in the army, he expected to do well, and was pleased when he beat Steve, but just barely.

“Damn, Buck,” Steve said with a low whistle, “you're good at playing games.”

Bucky snorted, and reached for Steve's forearm, giving it a small squeeze.

“I try,” Bucky replied as he shifted his gaze back to the attendant, who was holding out an obscenely huge teddy bear to him.

Immediately, Bucky grabbed it and passed it to Steve.

“For you,” Bucky said, and grinned when Steve blushed furiously as he accepted the bear.

The pair took a quick trip back to the car to pack up their prizes, then headed back inside, this time making for the food stalls, and loaded up on all manner of deep fried food and soft drinks (sprite for Steve, diet coke for Bucky) before they sat down at a picnic table by the carousel to eat.

“God, I wish I could eat like this every day,” Steve said thickly around a corndog dredged in a disgusting amount of mustard. “But then I'd...well, maybe die from clogged arteries or something.”

“Maybe,” Bucky agreed with a short laugh as he bit into his hot dog, topped with ketchup like a civilized human being, and not  _ mustard. _

“Sorry we couldn't go on any of the rides,” Bucky offered after a moment, his eyes trailing up to the rickety swinging ship, and the probably-not-legal roller coaster. How did they  _ travel  _ with all this stuff?

“Probably good that we don't,” Steve said with a laugh as he wiped the mustard off the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I'm not so good with crazy rides. Once, my buddy made me ride the Cyclone at Coney Island, and I threw up.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked curiously, leaning forward a little as he listened to Steve talk. He really liked the sound of his voice. “Good buddy?”

“Theoretically,” Steve replied, laughing a little. “It's weird, we don't get along much, like, we have different views and stuff, but we just sort of... _ click _ .”

“Different how?”

“Well...his dad worked for a weapons manufacturer, and ever since he took over the company and got the former partner arrested for some...let's say  _ very illegal and treasonous activities _ , he's turned it into this eco-friendly company that works mostly with clean energy, and buying out oil companies and refurbishing them into something better for the planet, along with working on what he calls  _ TARDIS Technology,  _ like making big objects fit into small spaces. Its real name is some science thing, I can never remember, and he also has a little nonprofit side project thing for vets with missing limbs, so on  _ that  _ front, we're five by five.”

“Okay...” Bucky replied, his brow furrowing a little as he listened. Why did all of that sound so familiar? Had he read an article about this company? He shook his head, and refocused his attention on Steve.

“But personally? We're pretty different,” Steve continued with a vague shrug. “He's more...the kinda guy who likes to cause chaos just to see what happens, big partier, he gets a kick out of peeing in public...or being drunk in public...thank god for his alpha, I swear, he'd be completely out of control without her around.”

“I—wait,” Bucky said, blinking as he sipped on his drink, just to have something to do with his hands. “You're best bosom buddy is an omega?”

“I'm friends with a few omegas,” Steve replied with a vague shrug. “Does that bother you?”

“Should it?”

“You tell me.”

Steve's tone was guarded, but not icy, as though he understood Bucky's reaction. After all, alphas being friends with omegas wasn't common, at least according to Brock.

There always was hell to pay if Bucky even  _ breathed  _ too close to another alpha.

Bucky shook his head minutely, debating how to answer. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to scare Steve off, either.

“I've never met an alpha who  _ could  _ be friends with omegas without mating with them,” Bucky said at last, and held his breath as he waited for Steve to react.

“Do you believe that we  _ can't  _ be friends with omegas?” Steve asked, his tone light, unassuming, and genuinely curious.

Bucky bit his lip, not wholly certain what to say. It seemed like Steve might be aiming for Bucky to answer in some sort of particular way, or maybe guiding the conversation, like a prospector sifting the riverbed for flecks of gold.

“No, I don't believe that,” Bucky said at last. He smiled faintly when he saw Steve's shoulders sag slightly with relief. “My ex did, though. He believed that it was impossible for us to be friends, and always said that alphas couldn't control themselves around omegas. He was real against me enlisting, too.”

“He was against the military?”

“No, he was just a sexist jackass,” Bucky replied dryly, making Steve chuckle.

“Bucky, can I ask you a personal question?” Steve asked hesitantly before he added, “but you don't have to answer if you don't want to.” 

“Yeah, okay.”

“Buck, you seem like a real good guy,” Steve began, “real smart, compassionate,  _ amazing  _ dad. Just...what were you doing with a guy like your ex? I mean...” Steve paused, and carded his hand through his hair in an action of stress, or perhaps anxiety. Bea got up and rested her head in her master's lap. Steve patted her head a few times before he continued, “you haven't said much about him, but I gather he wasn't nice to you or Sadie. I remember what you said at that dinner at my place, and I get the impression that he was probably an abuser...”

“Well, he didn't introduce himself to me as,  _ Hi, I'm Brock Rumlow, I like fishing, golf, and drinking myself into a rage before I beat down on my husband and daughter _ ,” Bucky said dryly, and Steve adopted a conflicted look, as though he didn't know whether or not it was appropriate to laugh.

“At first he was nice,” Bucky continued, smiling weakly across the table at Steve. “He made me feel safe. I mean...I'm pretty big for an omega, I'm not little and dainty; I'm tall and I always tried to keep myself in shape. I was always proud of being mistaken for an alpha or beta until someone caught my scent. I was proud of it, but it was lonely too, so when Brock paid me some attention, it was...I got a little lost in it, you know? I even forgave him the first few times he hit me, or hurt me, or told me that no one else would want me. Hell, the first few  _ hundred _ times he said shit like that, I  _ believed  _ it. Took me a long time to smarten up enough to leave him, and I was still in the army at that time, which made everything more complicated. It was...rough.”

_ Rough  _ didn't even cover it, but Bucky wasn't ready to cut himself open and bleed out the details, especially not on a first date.

If this thing with Steve worked out, maybe he'd tell him.

But not yet.

 

~*~

  
  


After their heavy lunch, Bucky was keen to lighten the mood. He felt a little guilty about turning the conversation on himself, and he wanted to know more about Steve. However, getting details out of the alpha was difficult—though it was less like Steve was reluctant to share, and more like Steve would rather learn about Bucky than talk about himself.

Despite that, Bucky never got the impression that Steve was trying to hide from him. He wasn't evasive, but just  _ curious _ . It seemed like he wanted to know everything about Bucky, and when Bucky managed to ask him a question about himself, he was still a little vague, as though he thought his life wasn't worth going into.

“My life is  _ boring,  _ Buck,” Steve protested with a warm chuckle. “I spend half my life at the VA, and the other half in my studio. Things only got interesting after I met you and Sadie.”

“You keep saying that,” Bucky pressed, “but I wanna know  _ you _ , Steve. Dates are places people get to know each other, remember? And maybe you just don't think your life is all that exciting, but  _ I do _ . I wanna know you, Steve, and I can't do that if you keep turning around this conversation on me.”

“Sorry,” Steve said, ducking his head a little. “I just...I guess I don't see myself so good, so it's sometimes hard to say stuff about myself.”

“You are the most gorgeous alpha I have ever met,” Bucky replied without hesitation. “Both inside and out. You're courteous, you're artistic, and you accepted Sadie as part of my life without a thought. I know you probably think that's  _ no big deal _ , but I'm telling you right now that it  _ is— _ alphas don't line up for you when you're a single dad, and the few dates I got after the shitstorm with Brock never ended well. None of them wanted to deal with Sadie, or even meet her. You're an amazing guy, Steve.”

“All right,” Steve said with a near-theatrical sigh, accepting Bucky's explanation seemingly too quickly, but he was smiling, which gave Bucky the impression that he wasn't actually upset with Bucky for being a little pesky. “You win. What d'you want to know?”

“Birthday?” Bucky asked, and Steve chuckled.

“July fourth.”

“Of course.” Bucky laughed. “Favourite colour?”

“Blue.”

“D'you got any allergies?”

“Um...shellfish, and I got the lungs of a half-dead seventy-year-old,” Steve replied, smiling wryly, and Bucky laughed again, though he didn't fail to notice that Steve's eyes still looked a little guarded.

“So, no lobster thermidor for you then, huh?” Bucky teased, making Steve huff a laugh.

“Nope, I mean, unless you want to kill me.”

“ _ Definitely not _ ,” Bucky replied, reaching for Steve's hand before he really realized what he was doing, and faltered. “Uh, is this okay?”

Steve answered by threading his fingers with Bucky's, and Bucky felt his heart swell with warmth.

The day passed in a flurry of activity—they ate, they played games, and Bucky did his best to not gaze too wistfully at the rides. He didn't want Steve to feel guilty about it.

As evening began to encroach on them, Steve invited Bucky onto the ferris wheel.

It wasn't one of those dinky ones that he would have anticipated at a travelling carnival like this one—it was much fancier, and bore the words,  _ Stark Industries _ along the base, telling Bucky that it was probably easy to tear down. Stark Industries was good at that sort of thing.

The ferris wheel was coloured in reds and golds, and the metal seats that one might expect on the ride were replaced by little round pod-like cabins, with a glass top and cushy seats that could fit at least four people. In contrast to the classy-looking ride was a hand-written sign stuck to one of the barricades, and in huge, all-capital letters it read,  _ NO INAPPROPRIATE BEHAVIOUR ON THE RIDE. _

“So...” Bucky murmured as he nodded towards the sign, “d'you think they mean making out, or fucking?”

“ _ Bucky! _ ” Steve hissed, unable to stifle a giggle as he motioned as subtly as he could towards the little kids nearby.

“I'm serious!” Bucky pressed, grinning as he grabbed Steve's arm again. He  _ really  _ liked holding onto him. “Which do you think it is?”

“I think we both know which it probably is,” Steve said dryly, and Bucky grinned at him wickedly.

“Yeah, but I wanna hear  _ you _ say it.”

“I'm not saying it with  _ kids _ around, you dork,” Steve replied, though his tone gave Bucky the impression that he wasn't annoyed with him, just a bit more of a prude than Bucky had expected.

Bucky didn't want to get his hopes up, but he hoped that  _ if  _ (and it was a  _ big  _ if) things worked out with Steve, maybe he could help him get over that.

 

They embarked on the ferris wheel, their giggling abruptly ceasing when the attendant stopped them and began to say something about no dogs on the ride. However, he was thankfully quick to spot Bea's Service Dog vest, and waved them through, blushing furiously and apologizing profusely.

Steve seemed more than a little uneasy with the attendant's overtly apologetic attitude, and Bucky knew too well how uncomfortable that could be from when people made a big deal about his missing arm.

Instead of saying anything and possibly making the situation more uncomfortable, Bucky silently looped his arm through Steve's free one, and squeezed the limb gently.

Immediately, he felt the alpha relax.

“I wish I knew how you do that,” Steve said once they'd sat down, and Bea curled up at their feet. Bucky spotted the attendant watching them, but he seemed to relax when he saw Bea lie down, and  Bucky shifted his attention back to Steve.

“Like I do what?”

“Just...you're so...” Steve trailed off, and laughed weakly, his face flushing pink with embarrassment. “I dunno how to say it. You just...you're so... _ calming _ . I feel myself getting ready to panic, and then you're there, holding my arm or hand, and the panic just goes away instantly.”

“Maybe it's my secret superpower,” Bucky teased as he offered Steve a grin. “I'm the alpha whisperer.”

“Gonna start correcting my behaviour, like the Dog Whisperer?” Steve teased back just as the ferris wheel began to move, though the mechanical jolt did not even faze Bea, who remained curled up on the floor.

“No way,” Bucky replied, “I  _ like  _ your behaviour.”

“Do you?” Steve asked, arching a brow, and Bucky felt himself blush.

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed, trying to sound confident, and he felt his blush worsen when his voice shook a little.

Steve lifted his hand, his brow creased a little as he regarded Bucky, and his hand moved towards him, it only freezing a scant inch from Bucky's cheek, as though he only just realized what he was doing.

“Bucky, can I?” he asked, his voice heavy with longing, and Bucky felt his heart flutter at his words. Brock had  _ never  _ bothered to ask Bucky something like that.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, his voice more than a little breathy, and he felt his heartbeat spike when Steve brushed along his cheek with the tips of his fingers, tickling his skin and making Bucky  _ ache  _ for more.

The ferris wheel moved, lifting them higher, and their position cast Steve in the golden glow of the sunset. Bucky's breath caught, and he inched closer until the outside of their thighs touched.

“Bucky...” Steve breathed, his voice almost reverent, the tone making Bucky tremble with want. “Can I...I mean...is it okay if I kiss you?”

“I would be really annoyed if you didn't,” Bucky murmured, grinning when Steve let out a warm chuckle, his fingers tickling along Bucky's cheek again as he leant a little closer, filling Bucky's nostrils with Steve's strong, musky alpha scent, paired with his good cologne, all of which made Bucky's knees quiver, and he was more than grateful that he was sitting down, certain that had he been standing, he probably would have fallen over.

Steve inched closer, a hand still cradling Bucky's cheek before his lips slotted over Bucky's with a light, almost experimental kiss. It was barely the ghost of a touch, making Bucky gasp involuntarily, but before he could really formulate a thought on how he felt about this barely-a-kiss, Steve leant in again for a  _ real  _ kiss.

Steve's lips were soft, and he tasted like cotton candy. His strong alpha scent filled Bucky with equal parts excitement and terror, but the accompanying smells and sensations of all the things Bucky associated with Steve diminished his fear, and reminded him of who he was with.

“W-We better not go too far,” Steve whispered against Bucky's lips, a big hand coming to rest against the back of Bucky's neck, the alpha's thumb a hairsbreadth from Bucky's bonding gland, which was devoid of a scar, given that Brock's mark had never taken when Bucky had been bitten by him.

Yet another thing that Bucky had paid for in beatings.

“Buck, you still with me?”

“I—y-yeah,” Bucky replied, his voice escaping him as a gasp, like he had been running. “Sorry, I got a little lost for a second.”

“Did I trigger something?” Steve asked, shifting back a little, and Bucky immediately grabbed the collar of Steve's shirt, pulling him back, unwilling to let this moment be sullied by memories of Brock.

“No, well...kinda?” Bucky winced. “Everything with you reminds me of my ex in some sort of twisted way. Like...not in a bad way, but you make me think of how badly he treated me, and how you're not like that, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Steve affirmed as he leant in to press a gentle kiss to Bucky's cheek, making the omega smile weakly. “I don't ever wanna treat you how you don't deserve to be treated, Buck, so if something scares you, you gotta tell me. I swear I'll never be mad that you told me not to do something. Whoever that guy was, I'm  _ not  _ him, okay? I wanna be good to you, but we're still getting to know each other, so try to tell me when things get to be too much or something.”

“I'll try,” Bucky replied, wincing a little. “I got that whole... _ anxiety-speak  _ thing going for me, and sometimes it fucks up my perception about when to share stuff and not share stuff.”

“Anxiety-speak?” Steve asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious puppy.

“Like...apologizing for things that I don't need to apologize for, oversharing...I have more PTSD issues from my time with my ex than I do from my time with the Army, if I'm being honest.”

“Hey, that doesn't make it any less valid,” Steve said as he gently wrapped an arm around Bucky's waist, and tugged him closer. Bucky noted that the embrace felt almost  _ too _ gentle, like Steve was ensuring that if Bucky had a flashback, he could easily escape the hold. “Actually, I think it probably takes more strength to leave someone that toxic than it takes to fire a gun. You're so amazing for finding the strength for that, Buck, and you and Sadie...you're both so strong, now that I know a bit more of what you went through. Don't ever feel like you're less than anyone because of what happened—you're not. You're here, you survived, and every day that you are able to look past your...well, your  _ past _ , it's a slap in the face of those people who tried to bring you down. You're  _ amazing _ , Bucky.”

Bucky smiled, somewhat at a loss of what to say. He could feel a pressure behind his eyes, but for once they were tears of joy, not sorrow.

In the golden hue of the departing sun, Bucky leant in for another kiss. He felt that this could be the start of something  _ wonderful _ , and he prayed that he wasn't wrong.

He wanted Steve to be  _ that  _ for him, someone Bucky could count on, and someone Sadie could look up to.

Never before had Bucky wished so ardently that he was right, and not making another big mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 99% of Bucky's anxiety and coping mechanisms are based on my own issues with clinical depression/anxiety. Anxiety-speak is my own term, and not a DSM-approved term in any way, shape, or form.


	9. First Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you guys for your patience! Next update will be Monday, July 15th. Enjoy! Sorry about the shortness of this chapter, I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless :)
> 
> **Content Warning: Mild Anxiety Attack, Implied Rape, Implied Sexual Abuse, Mild Ableist Language**

Chapter Nine – First Meeting

“I should warn you,” Bucky said as they drove back home, “if you don't come in when we get back to my place, my sister will probably march right over to your house and subject you to the Spanish Inquisition.”

“ _ Nobody  _ expects the Spanish Inquisition!” Steve immediately shouted, in a perfect imitation of Michael Palin, and Bucky howled with laughter.

“But, seriously,” Steve continued when they'd both calmed down, “I'd love to meet your sister.”

“Oh, you say that  _ now _ ,” Bucky said cryptically, “famous last words.”

“Very funny,” Steve said with a snort, and Bucky smirked. “My friends have been asking about you too. How are you with people? Maybe...seven or eight?”

“And why have they been asking about me?” Bucky asked, half in jest, and Steve chuckled a little.

“I  _ may  _ have mentioned you...once or twice...”

“Uh huh,” Bucky replied as he arched a dubious brow at him. “ _ Once or twice _ .”

“I have!” Steve protested with a laugh. “And I know my mom has been asking about you too, maybe we can take a day-trip to Queens with Sadie, and—”

“Hey, slow down, cowboy,” Bucky teased, his grin widening when Steve's cheeks tinged pink. “Let's take it one step at a time. You said yes to meeting my sister, and I'm totally down to meeting your friends, but...maybe we can wait a little on your mom? I—I mean, I don't want to  _ not  _ meet her, but...I just don't...I don't want to rush things too much; I don't want us to get ahead of ourselves.”

Steve did not immediately say anything. They were driving down the highway, some annoyingly cheerful pop song was playing on the radio, but Steve had stopped tapping his fingers to it. His expression was thoughtful, almost pensive, but not outwardly angry.

“Is this...back to what happened with Sadie's dad?” Steve ventured, and Bucky squirmed in his seat uncomfortably.

“Am I  _ that  _ transparent?” Bucky asked with a weak laugh, and Steve offered him a small, reassuring smile.

“No, you're not, but it's pretty clear that he never treated you right, and it left a lot of scars,” Steve said, his tone reassuring, while he shifted his attention back to the road as he continued to speak. “It's not much of a leap to assume that any time you get uncomfortable, it's because of something  _ he  _ did. It's not bad, Buck, but every time I learn something new about Sadie's other dad, I like the guy less and less. It also makes me want to treat you right more than ever. Not 'cause you're some dainty little omega who needs protecting, I don't mean it like that, but 'cause you're a human who deserves love and respect, and you deserve to feel safe with your partner, not afraid.”

“You sound an awful lot like my therapist,” Bucky mused, which made Steve laugh.

“Probably 'cause I used to spend way too much time at the VA fixing my head,” Steve replied with a soft, easy smile. “I guess I picked up some of the lingo while I was there.”

“I guess,” Bucky mused, smiling a little as he eased back into his seat. “We can plan a barbecue to meet your friends, but you gotta  _ promise _ that it'll be kid-friendly.”

“Well, words-wise, I'll do my best to ask my friends to not swear, and I won't have any beer there—I don't wanna upset Sadie. But I can't promise that my friend Nat won't try and sneak in a bottle of vodka—she loves her Russian heritage a little too much.”

“It's just beer that's really upsetting to us,” Bucky explained patiently. “Wine, vodka, whatever, it's fine, as long as none of your friends try and give some to my five-year-old.”

“I doubt it,” Steve said with a weak laugh. “I mean, my friends can be stupid, but they're not  _ that  _ irresponsible.”

“Yeah, friends are like that,” Bucky agreed, nodding a little. “I mean if they're friends with you, I'm pretty sure they'll understand triggers and stuff. Just don't tell them my life's story, Steve.”

“I can do that,” Steve agreed, and his bright smile returned, as did his cheery tapping of his fingers to the music.

 

~*~

 

“ _ Daddy! _ ”

Bucky was barely out of Steve's car when Sadie raced down the walkway and threw herself at her father. Bucky laughed as he stumbled back into the vehicle, and enthusiastically returned her hug.

“Hey, baby,” Bucky greeted, smiling while Steve circled to the back seats where their prizes were hidden.

“Auntie Becca told me to ask you if you  _ got some _ ,” Sadie said, and Bucky choked, even as Sadie continued to barrel forwards. “Some  _ what, _ Daddy? Auntie Becca wouldn't tell me!”

“Some stuffies!” Steve suddenly cried, grinning as he pulled out the giant plush spider with one hand, and clutched Bea's leash with the other. He raced around the car to hold it out to Sadie, thus saving Bucky from a  _ very  _ awkward conversation.

Sadie squealed with delight, hugging the eight-legged beast close like it was a sweet little kitten, while beyond her Bucky could see Becca in the window, visibly laughing her ass off.

Bitch.

“Daddy, did you and Steve  _ kiss _ ?” Sadie suddenly asked, her voice slightly muffled from the toy in her arms, which she appeared to be pressing to her face. “Auntie Becca said that good dates mean you get lotsa kisses.”

“What  _ else _ did your aunt tell you?” Bucky asked suspiciously while he reached out for Steve's hand, their fingers threading together. Sadie didn't react to the small show of affection, and to Bucky's question she shrugged a little.

“Nothing,” she replied innocently, and then turned to Steve. “Did you give my daddy good, happy kisses?”

“Happy kisses?” Steve asked curiously, and Sadie nodded.

“Good kisses. Not sad kisses.”

Steve glanced to Bucky, his brows pinched and his expression visibly conflicted, as though he didn't know what to say. Bucky made a mental note to explain what Sadie meant—later. Bucky had no intention of ruining the moment by explaining to Steve that Sadie was referring to the horrible heats he'd endured with Brock when she was a little older, and she hadn't understoood why her daddy cried when her papa kissed him.

_ “Kisses aren't always happy, Sade. I give you kisses 'cause I love you, but sometimes when your Papa is angry, he gives me kisses when I don't want them, and they make me sad. But kissing isn't always bad, baby, it's only bad if one person doesn't want it. But Papa will never hurt you like that, I'll make sure of it.” _

“Yeah,” Steve hedged, his voice drawing Bucky out of bad memories, and he saw the alpha's hand tense around the dog's leash, as though he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be answering her probing questions. “We might've kissed...a few times.”

“Can I see?”

Bucky laughed as Steve sputtered, then without missing a beat he grabbed Steve by the chin, and pecked the alpha on the lips.

Immediately Sadie began to clap enthusiastically around her new toy, like she was an attendee of a play.

“Can I have a kiss too, Steve?” Sadie asked sweetly, and Steve, blushing furiously, looked to Bucky for guidance.

Not sure he was up to speaking without bursting out laughing, Bucky offered him a helpless shrug, trusting that Steve wasn't some sort of creep, and understood the innocence of Sadie's request.

“When you look at me like that, how can I say no?” Steve asked her, and crouched down to scoop the little girl up, making her shriek delightedly. He perched her in his arms and pecked Sadie on the cheek, making her olive cheeks turn cherry-red.

“You better marry my daddy,” Sadie said happily, but firmly, while they meandered slowly up the walkway. “'Cause I think you'd be the bestest Stair-Daddy in the whole world.”

“Where on  _ earth _ did you hear about that, Missy?” Bucky sputtered, and Sadie glanced over at her father with a blank, innocent stare.

“From Auntie Becca,” she replied innocently, as though she didn't understand why Bucky was so upset.

“Step-Daddy,” Steve corrected gently, smiling as he ignored how flustered Bucky was, and adjusted his hold on both Sadie and the dog's leash in order to tap her button nose gently, making her giggle again. “But that's a talk for another day, okay, Miss Sadie?”

“Okay,” Sadie conceded, apparently not at all bothered by Steve putting her off of marriage talk— _ again _ . 

 

~*~

 

“Ah, so  _ you _ must be Mr  _ The Hottest Gentile My Brother Has Ever Seen, _ ” Becca said the moment that Steve, Sadie, and Bucky crossed the threshold into the house, and Steve looked politely perplexed, while Lola trotted over, her little eyes narrowed suspiciously, as though she didn't like a new alpha in her space. “I gotta say, he wasn't  _ that  _ much off the mark.”

“Uh...what?” Steve asked, blinking bemusedly at Bucky's sister, while Bucky buried his beet-red face in his hands with a small groan.

“What's a gentile?” Sadie and Lola chirped curiously, making the adults smile at their perfectly synced question.

“It means someone who's not Jewish,” Becca supplied, and when Bucky finally looked up again, he saw his sister smiling at the two girls warmly.

“Oh.” Sadie bit her lip, before she asked, “can you  _ make  _ someone Jewish? My best friend isn't Jewish, she's...she's...something else, I can't 'member. But in the winter she gets Christmas, and only one day of presents. Are you like that, Steve? If you are, that's okay, but you should be Jewish because we get presents for  _ eight whole days _ but maybe not for Yom Kippur because Daddy says we shouldn't eat during Tisha B'Av. He lets me eat anyway, but he won't. I tried once, but I got too hungry.”

She said all this very fast, and Steve was regarding her with a bemused expression, as though some of her words had gone right over his head.

“Well, Miss Sadie,” Steve said at last, “you  _ can  _ make someone Jewish, or Catholic, or whatever, but that's no fun for anyone—people feel happier when they get to choose their faith.”

“Oh. Are you happy, Steve? Do you have a...faith?”

Steve paused, as though he didn't really know how to answer, though Bucky recognized the look he saw on the alpha's face—that  _ I was raised with a certain religion but I don't really follow it  _ sort of look. Bucky wasn't entirely certain if Sadie would completely understand it, despite the fact that he had been raising Sadie vaguely in that vein. Sure, they went to synagogue during holidays, and Bucky did his best to keep kosher (more or less, anyway), but Sadie didn't quite understand the distinction yet, and her Bubbe had been long gone by the time Sadie had been born, thus saving Bucky from most of her pestering where their faith was concerned. Had her Bubbe still been around, he knew that she would have  _ hounded  _ Bucky and Becca to send their kids to Hebrew School.

“Yeah, I do,” Steve said at last as he offered the girl a warm smile. “But I'd love to celebrate your holidays with you, Miss Sadie.”

Sadie cheered, and the group laughed warmly as they all headed farther inside, while Lola complained about Sadie commanding everyone's attention, thus garnering more laughter, and causing Lola to cross her arms sulkily.

 

~*~

 

“So, Steve,” Becca said conversationally, the three adults standing in the kitchen while the girls played outside. She poured Bucky's good red wine into three glasses, and passed one to Steve. “It  _ is  _ Steve, right?”

Bucky huffed, but bit his tongue—as if Becca didn't already know Steve's name; she'd only asked about him five thousand times already. 

“Yeah, it's Steve,” Steve replied with a small smile, chuckling a bit as he sipped the wine politely.

“Well, Steve,” Becca said with the air of an arch-villain balancing an H Bomb on her fingertips. “My brother has told me pretty much  _ nothing  _ about you, which is something of a crime in my book. So,  _ dish. _ What makes you such a good alpha that it turns my brother into a giggly schoolboy whenever you come up?”

“Nothing,” Steve replied, shrugging innocently. “I'm just a kid from Brooklyn.”

“Come on,” Bucky joked as he touched Steve's arm lightly, and he could feel the tense muscles there. Despite how relaxed Steve appeared, he was  _ definitely  _ nervous about meeting Becca. “Becca is good people—safe space, and you can tell her how much or how little you want.”

“Yeah,” Becca added, clearly catching on to Steve's anxiety, though the way she was now intently studying Steve made Bucky feel a bit uneasy. He knew that look well—like Becca was trying to  _ find  _ the anxiety, like one might sift for gold. “I know Bucky's whole story, and Sadie lived with me for the first half of her life, so whatever is making you nervous—don't be.”

Bucky grimaced; he'd always hated the  _ just don't be anxious  _ line that people sometimes threw at him, though he always understood that Becca's sentiments (however misguided) did come from a place of love.

“Sorry, guys,” Steve said with an awkward, shaky laugh. “I guess...well...when you take charge and everything, you learn to shelve your own feelings, you know? Sometimes I forget that I'm not Captain Rogers anymore.”

Bucky shifted his grip from Steve's arm (which still felt like stone from how tense he was) to his hand, and he threaded their fingers together.

“You don't have to tell her about when you served if you don't want to,” Bucky offered, “hell, you haven't even told  _ me _ . Becca means like your job and stuff... _ right, Becks? _ ”

“Yeah,” Becca replied, her eyes a little wide, as though she wasn't entirely sure why Bucky was glaring at her. “You know...your job, and your friends and stuff. God, did you think I'd be stupid enough to pester you about your time in the Armed Forces? Bucky gave me all this reading material from the VA  _ ages  _ ago about having a family member who's a veteran, and I learnt  _ way long ago  _ that you don't bring that stuff up unless the vet  _ really  _ wants to discuss it. I totally get that there are some off-limits topics for you.”

And in the same breath, Bucky felt all the tension leave Steve's body. He was loose and wobbly, Bea was nuzzling his other arm, pressing at something in his pocket, and Steve smiled fondly, first at Bucky, then at Bea.

“Sorry, guess I'm the no-fun guy right now, huh?” Steve asked as he pulled out a tiny Ziploc bag from his pocket, and picked out a tiny round pill. At the looks the Barnes siblings were giving him, he cracked a grin before popping one of the tiny pills and dry-swallowing it before he added, “it's prescription anxiety meds, I just don't like toting around the whole bottle all the time.”

“It better be, Mr Rogers,” Becca warned. “I'm sure Bucky's told you stuff about his past, and I do  _ not _ want a repeat, understand?”

_ This conversation is a disaster _ , Bucky thought with a wince, even as Becca glared at Steve, clearly waiting for a response.

“Becca,” Bucky said with a small groan, “would you please stop with the third-degree? I promise you that Steve is a good guy. Would Sadie be half as crazy about him if he was some kind of psycho?”

Becca glared at him, perhaps recalling way back when Bucky had first met Brock and stated something similar, but thankfully, she kept her mouth shut. Bucky knew his track record with reading people was horrific, but this time he knew—he  _ knew  _ that Steve was a good guy.

“Sorry, Steve,” Becca said after a moment, and offered Steve what Bucky thought looked to be a fairly genuine smile. “I just gotta look out for my idiot big brother. He is very good at trusting the wrong people.”

“My friend Nat is like that,” Steve offered with a warm chuckle. “She gives the shovel talk to every poor schlub I try to date, and scares them off real quick.”

“Do you date a lot?”

“Bucky is my third real relationship in my adult life,” Steve answered, a cool edge to his tone. “I'm not some hindbrain knothead, if that's what you're asking.”

Bucky pillowed his chin against the heel of his palm, and swallowed another groan. So much for his boyfriend and his sister getting along.

 

~*~

 

While the first meeting could have been worse, Bucky knew it could have gone a lot better. As he bid Becca and Lola goodbye, Steve hung back, perhaps knowing it was time to head home, but it seemed as though he couldn't bring himself to.

“I'm sorry about today,” Steve said, “well...the meeting your sister part, I mean. I thought the date was great.”

“Yeah, she can be kind of a bitch sometimes, I don't think it was your fault,” Bucky replied as he took Steve's hand in his, and moved in to kiss him lightly. “I sort of...I'm not so great at reading people outside of wartime scenarios. I can tell when someone is about to shoot me, but I can't exactly read people when they plan to fuck with my head, you know? Because of that Becca can get a little protective.”

“It's tough sometimes,” Steve agreed, offering Bucky a kiss of his own. Thankfully, Steve kept it innocent and sweet, likely because Sadie was watching the exchange through the living room window. “But your sister loves you, that's pretty obvious—I don't hold it against her for how she acted. Though you weren't kidding about Spanish Inquisition.”

“You said it in the car,” Bucky replied, grinning a little. “ _ Nobody _ expects the Spanish Inquisition.”

Steve laughed, the sound loud and almost boisterous as he pulled Bucky in for a hug, then another sweet but effectively mind-numbing kiss.

“Maybe we can talk soon about the barbecue with my friends?” Steve asked, his tone almost hesitant as he whispered the words against Bucky's lips. “Maybe after school lets out for Sadie. We can plan it together, make a whole thing out of it.”

“She finishes for summer in a few weeks,” Bucky offered, still smiling up at Steve as he spoke. “Mid-June is when she gets out.”

“So we got about a month to plan,” Steve replied. “That seems like enough time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky said, before he sealed his lips over Steve's in another kiss.


	10. Aisle Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please note the warnings for this chapter, as it is much more explicitly portrayed than in previous chapters! Next update is scheduled for July 28th. Enjoy! 
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING: PTSD, Anxiety Attack, Dissociation, PTSD-Induced Meltdown, Homophobic Language, Ableism, Antisemitic Language, Implied Racism, Implied Transphobia**

Chapter Ten – Aisle Nine

 

Bucky hadn't quite decided whether or not to tell Sadie of their barbecue plans, or save it as a surprise. Even two weeks later after hammering out the food detail (basic barbecue fare, with nothing too fancy) he hadn't quite come up with a good answer.

That is, until Steve said, “just let it be a surprise, Buck—she loves people; she's not like us, you know, people who need a bunch of advance warning before socializing.”

That had been good enough for Bucky, and he kept his mouth shut. It was hard, knowing that he'd not  be meeting just one or two of Steve's friends but  _ seven _ , and he hoped desperately that he'd be able to hold it together for Steve's benefit. He wanted so badly for this to go well.

Bucky tried not to think on it too much, focusing instead on his regular life of work and Sadie, with the added— _ blessed _ —addition of Steve.

 

On Friday night, a week before Sadie was due to finish school for the summer, Bucky shot off a text to Steve in order to invite him to dinner for the fourth time that week.

 

**Bucky – 4:10PM**   
_ Wanna have dinner with us? Me and sade are heading out to safeway in a few mins  _

**Bucky – 4:10PM**

_ i'm making my world-famous panzanella salad _

**Steve – 4:11pm**

_ First explain to me what that is, then follow it up with how salad can be dinner. _

**Bucky – 4:11pm**

_ its a tuscan salad with veggies and bread and its fucking good you asshole _

**Bucky – 4:12pm**

_ you coming? _

 

A knock on Bucky's front door was his answer, and he laughed as he opened it, and offered Steve a kiss in greeting roughly three seconds before Sadie pounced on the alpha in a joyous hug.

“ _ Steve! _ ” she cried, smiling broadly as she let him go in order to hug Bea as well. “Are you coming to the store with us? Daddy is making fancy salad, but it's okay because it's the yummiest.”

“It's the only salad she'll eat and not complain about,” Bucky muttered, making Steve snort. 

“Yeah, your daddy invited me to tag along,” Steve replied, scooping the little girl up and making her giggle delightedly while Bucky stepped out of their door with their shopping bags over his prosthetic, and he locked it behind him.

“Going to the store is fun, even if I'm not allowed to bring my pets along,” Sadie continued as they meandered towards Bucky's car. “Sometimes Daddy even lets me get chocolate.”

“But only sometimes,” Bucky added with a wry smirk, “c'mon, let's go.” 

Bucky twirled the keys around his flesh finger while he led them to the car, with Steve, Sadie, and Bea in tow. To Bucky's relief—and astonishment—Steve did not offer to drive. Some people (namely, Becca) often tried to offer to drive when they planned to go somewhere, like they thought Bucky wasn't capable of driving just because he was missing an arm, and he hated it. 

Luckily, Steve wasn't like that, something Bucky had to constantly remind himself as their relationship slowly progressed.

As they drove, the tones of Metallica filled the silence that wasn't occupied by Sadie's cheery chatter. Steve happily engaged her in talk of anything and everything, which warmed Bucky's heart to watch.

 

At the store, Steve got them a cart while Bucky consulted his list, and picked out the necessary items for their salad—baby spinach, feta cheese, yellow beets, and more, while Steve and Bea dutifully followed along with the two Barneses.

Bucky had decided to make a real night of it, and picked out some red wine to go along with their food before informing Sadie that she could pick out cookies for their dessert.

It was there, down the cookie aisle, when their pleasant afternoon fell apart.

They were doing nothing to spark it, nothing at all. 

Sadie was ahead of them, skipping from tile to tile and humming while she gazed at all the different boxes of cookies, and tried to pick one. She settled on mint Oreos, and they were heading out of the aisle when the woman ahead of them suddenly veered her cart to the left, and blocked their path.

Bucky and Steve both jumped a little at the dissonant screeching of the cart's tires against the floor, while Bucky compulsively reached for Sadie and tugged her close to his side. Sadie went without complaint, hugging Bucky tightly around the waist, and Bucky saw Steve's hands tense around Bea's leash.

The woman was older, maybe in her fifties or sixties, and a complete stranger to Bucky. He could feel the waves of animosity coming off of her, her eyes were fixed solely on Steve. It was as though Steve was the very bane of this woman's entire existence, and yet Bucky had no idea what they could have done to spark such a response from her.

“There are no dogs allowed in the store, young man,” she said coldly, and Bucky felt Steve tense next to him. 

“This is a service dog, ma'am,” Steve replied, his voice relatively even, but Bucky caught a faint tremor intermingling with his words. “She goes where I go.”

“You look fine to me,” she replied just as coldly as before. Bucky felt sick, and his heartbeat began to quicken as the woman stepped away from her cart, and advanced on them. “ _ More _ than fine, actually. Big, strong alpha like yourself, probably don't want to leave the dog in the car, so you ordered that  _ fake  _ little vest online, didn't you?”

“She's my service dog, ma'am,” Steve repeated, and Bucky could smell it now—the acrid scent of panicked,  _ terrified _ alpha that was coming off Steve in waves. “She needs to be with me.”

“Service dogs are for blind people and people with  _ real  _ disabilities, not  _ you. _ ”

“Sadie,” Bucky whispered, giving Sadie's hand a little squeeze, and drawing his daughter's attention away from the confrontation. This wasn't something that Bucky had  _ ever  _ wanted his child to see, and he needed a distraction for her—he could see this getting out of hand very quickly. “I need you to go to the end of the aisle, and you see that person there?” he pointed to the employee, and Sadie nodded, her little face set in a look of determination. “Go to them and tell them that you need a manager  _ right now _ . Tell them I told you to ask for one, and then I want you to stay back, okay? Steve is getting upset, and it's the kind of upset where he might hurt someone by accident.”

“Like Papa?” she asked quietly, her eyes full of fear. Bucky wanted to  _ kick  _ himself for his own stupid phrasing, but there wasn't time. The woman was almost shouting now, and with every word she was inching closer and closer to Steve. Bea was pawing and nuzzling at Steve, but he did not seem to notice the dog's attempts to draw him out of his panic.

“No, baby, not like Papa— _ never  _ like Papa. Steve would never hurt us like that, but his mind is making him extra scared, like Pistachio reacted when she first met Bea, remember? Steve brought her in and Pistachio thought he would get hurt, so he scratched Bea?”

“Pistachio didn't mean to, he was just scared. And Steve is scared now,” she repeated back to him, and Bucky nodded.

“Exactly, baby. But a manager can help us. So go talk to that girl, make sure she knows it's real important, but I don't want you to leave this aisle, okay? Just stay back.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Bucky felt a modicum of relief swell in him as he watched his daughter rush to the employee, her eyes alight with panic. The employee glanced up, and her eyes widened, as though she'd only just noticed what was happening. She raced off soon after Sadie reached her, hopefully in search of the manager.

As Bucky had instructed, Sadie hung back, standing just inside the aisle. Bucky gave her a smile of reassurance before he finally turned his attention back to the scene, just as the woman seemed to lose the last of her so-called patience, and began to scream.

“ _ You have no right to have that animal in here! _ ” she shrieked, her eyes bugging out of her skull, her arms flailing, and her skin curdling to an angry red. _ “You're lying! Give me that dog right now! _ ” 

Without warning, the woman snatched Bea's leash from Steve's hand, and made a run for the open end of the aisle, but given that Bucky was right there, he was able to snatch the leash back just as quickly  from her, and thankfully soon enough that Bea did not get harshly yanked in one direction or another.

“What the  _ hell  _ is wrong with you, lady?” Bucky snarled, getting up close to her, even as she glared back up at Bucky, moving to grab the leash again, but paled a little when she realized that she couldn't tug it from Bucky's iron grip. “The dog has one of the VA-issued working vests on, marking her as a service dog for a  _ veteran _ . Even the most idiotic person can see that—what the  _ fuck _ gives you the right to take away his support like that?”

“There are drugs for people like  _ him! _ ” she sneered. “He's frauding the system, these dogs aren't  _ for  _ him!  _ Give me that dog, you fucking queer! _ ”

Bucky winced internally at the slur, but he did not let it show on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Steve had collapsed to the floor, his knees drawn to his chest, and he was rocking back and forth, his eyes blank. Seeing Steve like that made Bucky want to be sick.

At the same moment, a man in a work shirt, tie, and a Safeway nametag seemed to materialize out of nowhere, flanked by a security guard, and Bucky could have sung with relief. 

“Ma'am, what's—oh, it's  _ you  _ again,” the manager said, not even bothering to hide the sneer from his voice as he regarded her. “Come with me,  _ now _ .”

“Why are you all attacking me?” she demanded, her voice high with false indignation and crocodile tears, as though  _ she  _ was the wronged party. “Call the police on  _ that  _ man! He is frauding our system, making a  _ mockery  _ of our veterans! It's him, not me!”

“Ma'am, you are harassing two veterans with a child and a service dog,” the man replied, his voice tired and angry, making it clear that this had not been the first time he'd had this conversation. “Last week, you verbally berated a trans woman in our public bathrooms, and the week before that you were heckling a biracial couple. Do I really  _ need  _ to go on? If you don't leave this store  _ right now _ , I'm calling the police.”

Without waiting for her to respond, the security guard marched the woman from the store with the manager following closely behind. She went without any of her purchases, and Bucky did not miss how she screamed and cursed the whole way out. 

Bucky felt himself relax a little when her voice finally died away. An employee was positioned at either end of the aisle, their expressions tense, as though this was hardly the first time that something like this had happened.

Bucky was grateful for their presence, if only marginally. Their protection hadn't come soon enough, as far as Bucky was concerned.

Sadie seemed to feel as though the danger had passed, and began to scamper forwards. Bucky held up a hand, and she skidded to a halt, popping her thumb into her mouth as she watched. Her thumb-sucking was something that Bucky knew she only did when she was stressed, and her father was unable to console her. The sight of it made him feel queasy with newfound guilt, and he felt torn between consoling Steve, and consoling his daughter.

“Just wait there another minute, baby,” Bucky said with a small, reassuring smile, and she nodded, though she still did not remove her thumb from her mouth. 

Bucky shifted his gaze back to Steve. Bea was licking his cheek and whining, alternately nudging at Steve's pockets where he kept his meds, but Steve didn't respond. 

Instead, Steve was gazing blankly at a shelf of cookies, rocking back and forth, his eyes wide and unblinking. One of the employees nearer to them took an uncertain step forward, but froze when Bucky shook his head sharply. He'd seen too many vets in the throes of an episode react violently to chance a stranger trying to help, only to have it end badly.

Bucky would have to do this on his own.

Slowly, Bucky crouched in front of Steve, cutting off the alpha's sight of the cookie shelf. The scent of fear coming off Steve was making Bucky's head ache, but he ignored it, his entire focus on helping Steve through this. 

“Steve, baby?” Bucky asked uncertainly, trying to remember what his therapist would do if Bucky had an episode in his presence. “Steve, come back to me—to us. Bea is here, you haven't lost her. You're not in a combat zone, you're safe. You're safe, baby. You're home, you're safe...”

Steve didn't respond verbally, but tears began to streak his cheeks. Beyond that, Steve did not react. He continued to rock himself and stare ahead blankly. 

“Steve, baby, you're safe,” Bucky repeated, tamping down on the urge to lunge at Steve and embrace him—that would likely not end well for either of them; there was every chance that Steve would react violently to any form of physical contact at the moment. “Come back to us, baby. There is no threat, you're home. You're in Albany, New York, and we're in the grocery store. We're gonna go home soon and make dinner. You're gonna play with Sadie, and help her catch bugs. Then we're gonna put her to bed, and just hang out and watch TV. You're okay, baby, you're safe...”

Bucky wasn't entirely certain for how long he talked in that soft, coaxing tone. The manager had come back and seemed to be keeping Sadie occupied with some sort of puzzle and a lollipop, which Bucky was fine with. 

Bucky's throat had begun to ache from so much talking. After nearly a full twenty minutes, at last, Steve began to come back to himself, breaking out of the dissociative state with a small sob, before he shamefully buried his face in his hands. 

“Baby?” Bucky asked tentatively. “Are you with me?”

Steve nodded, but he didn't lift his head from his hands. Bucky could hear him mumbling an apology, even as Bucky rushed forward to embrace him, hushing his words and rubbing his back consolingly. 

“You don't need to apologize, babe, we've all been there,” Bucky whispered as he held him. “Come on, let's get you to the car, okay?”

“But...our groceries...” Steve protested feebly, but the manager was already there, gabbing the handle of their full cart. 

“I've got it,” he said simply. “No charge—least I can do for what that...for what happened. You just take care of your husband, now.”

Bucky inclined his head in a small nod, not bothering to correct the man as he helped Steve to his feet, made sure he had Bea's leash around his wrist before he took Sadie's hand and guided the distraught alpha and his daughter out of the store.

 

~*~

 

At the car, Bucky settled Steve into the back seat so he could sit with Bea, and made sure the alpha took his anxiety meds before he let Sadie climb in on his other side. Immediately, she climbed into Steve's lap and hugged him tightly.

“You're okay, Steve,” Bucky heard Sadie say into the alpha's shoulder. “Daddy will take  _ good  _ care of you.”

Fighting back tears, Bucky turned away from the sweet scene in order to pack away the groceries in the trunk while he offered the manager a weak smile.

“Thanks for helping us,” Bucky said, his voice weak and distinctly wrung-out. “I have no idea what we would have done if my daughter hadn't been able to grab someone...”

“Forget it,” the manager replied, smiling as he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I did two tours with the Navy—we've all been there at one time or another. PTSD can be rough, but you did everything you were supposed to—I know it's hard, but it could've been a hell of a lot worse.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, smiling wryly. “I mean, I've definitely seen worse, it just...my experience with it was more...different, if that makes sense.”

“It does,” the manager agreed, nodding his head once in confirmation. “Just take care of your husband. I'll understand if you don't wanna shop here anymore after this, but for what it's worth, that lady's been blacklisted, pretty much officially. If she's seen in our store again, we get to call the police on her.”

“I'll probably be back, dunno about Steve though—I don't wanna trigger him.”

“Fair,” the manager agreed, placing the last bag into Bucky's car, and Bucky slammed the trunk shut. “Take care of yourself, man.”

“Yeah, you too,” Bucky replied, “and...thanks again.”

The manager waved him off once more, and headed back towards the store without so much as a backward glance.

 

~*~

 

Steve was quiet on the drive home. Sadie was still visibly shaken by the ordeal, evidenced by the way she clung to Steve's arm quietly—Sadie was  _ never  _ quiet.

When Bucky asked Steve if he'd rather go home than spend time with them, Steve shook his head a little.

“Don't wanna be alone,” Steve mumbled, the words almost sluggish, which did not surprise Bucky much. In between the dissociative episode and the medication, he had to be exhausted. Bucky remembered taking Ativan for a few months after he'd first left Brock, and to say that it knocked him out would be a  _ massive  _ understatement. Likely, Steve was experiencing something similar.

“You can have a nap in my bed,” Sadie said with all the certainty of a mother hen. “You just need a nap, and lots of hugs.”

“That sounds good, Miss Sadie,” Steve replied with a soft, sad smile, and Bucky smiled in the rear view mirror as he watched Steve coil an arm around Sadie's shoulders in a gentle half-hug.

 

~*~

 

When they at last made it to the house, Bucky walked Steve inside and set him up on the sofa with a blanket and Bea curled up against his side. Steve let out a soft sigh as he eased back on the cushions, clearly more at ease now that he was swathed in Bucky's gentle omega scent. 

“Just stay right here, baby,” Bucky said softly before he pressed a soft kiss to Steve's lips. “I'll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, his eyelids already hooded, making it clear that he was going to nod off soon. “Sorry for wrecking the day...”

“Oh, no, baby, you didn't, these things happen and it's  _ okay _ ,” Bucky said softly before he kissed him again. “I know it's hard, but try not to think like that. We couldn't've expected a batshit crazy person to pull something like that, and it's absolutely  _ not  _ your fault, okay? I don't blame you for what happened.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Steve, I'm sure.”

Steve smiled, apparently too exhausted to do much else, and quickly, he fell asleep.

“Steve really needed a nap, huh?” Sadie asked from behind Bucky, she sucking her thumb with one hand, and hugging the plush spider that Bucky had gotten for her from the carnival to her chest with the other. “Is he okay, Daddy?”

“He'll be okay, sweetheart,” Bucky said as he crouched down and pulled his daughter into a one-armed hug. “That lady really scared Steve, and his mind went to the bad place, like Daddy's used to. Do you remember what we call that?”

“Dis...Dis...Dispopation?” she ventured, and Bucky offered her a small, reassuring smile. 

“Close, baby.  _ Dissociation _ ,” Bucky said, enunciating the word carefully, and Sadie nodded as Bucky continued. “If Steve ever dissociates around you, it doesn't mean he'll hurt you, but if it ever happens, you gotta get a grown up, just like you did today, and don't touch him until the grown up says it's okay, because you might scare him, and he could hurt you without meaning to. Can you remember all that?”

“I think so, Daddy,” she said, scrunching up her face a little as she thought it over. “So if Steve gets scared away, I just get you and things will be okay?”

“Exactly, honey,” Bucky replied, hugging her again, and Sadie threw her arms around her father's neck in an almost choking embrace.

“Daddy?” Sadie asked, whispering the word in his ear, “can I has a question?”

“What's your question?”

“Um...the bad lady called you a name...and you got sad. What did it mean?”

“You mean when she called me  _ queer _ ?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Come outside with me, baby,” Bucky said as he straightened up, pausing long enough to take off his prosthetic and put it aside before he extended his hand to his daughter. “We'll talk outside so that we don't wake Steve up.”

“Okay,” she replied, taking Bucky's hand without hesitation, and she allowed her father to lead her outside. 

 

The short walk from the living room to the front step gave Bucky a little time to think about his answer. He wasn't  _ entirely  _ certain if it would be too much for a five-year-old to understand, but Sadie had always been a smart kid, and he had faith that she'd get it. 

They sat down on the front step together, and Bucky took a small breath in order to gather his thoughts before he began to explain.

“Sadie, as you know, when you're born you're told that you're a boy or a girl. That's called your  _ sex _ , and then when you get older and become a teenager, some people do something called  _ presenting _ , which is when you sometimes get a second sex—these people are called alphas and omegas,” Bucky began, somewhat awkwardly, while he watched his daughter's expression carefully. “People who are beta do not present, and can only make babies with the opposite sex, which means that a boy beta can only make a baby with a girl beta, and the girl will always have the baby. Do you understand so far?”

“I think so, Daddy,” she said, still hugging her spider close. “Boy betas and girl betas can only make babies together, so not with omegas or alphas?”

“That's right,” Bucky replied, smiling approvingly at his daughter. “But omegas and alphas can be girls  _ or  _ boys, it doesn't really matter, and no one knows why it doesn't matter—science is still figuring it out. It means that alphas can only make babies with omegas, so two boys or two girls can make a baby together if they want to. 

“But some betas, like the lady at the store, they think that two boys or two girls together is bad,” Bucky continued with a small wince. “They don't have a real good reason for it, they're just bullies. They think that people should only be like them—a boy and a girl together, and that's it. Most betas don't think that way, and there are lots of beta people who will love another girl, or another boy, because that's how God made them. But still there are some bullies who think that's bad, and are mean to people about it, even without knowing anything about them. So...the word queer is a bad word that bullies use to make a boy who loves another boy, or a girl who loves another girl feel bad, like they're not a good person for being themselves.”

“Like when Darren Johnson called me a kike at school and you got really, really mad?” Sadie asked curiously, and Bucky smiled sadly as he recalled that day, one of the few times he nearly murdered a little kid, then promptly pitched a fit at the school, then at the kid's parents for the child's horrific language. 

So much for the  _ enlightened  _ era.

“Sort of, baby,” Bucky replied at last. “People just don't like things that are different.” 

“I like different people,” Sadie said softly, her eyes downcast as she spoke. “Steve's hair is yellow—that's different than mine. He's still nice, even if he's different than me. Clarissa has dark brown skin, and mine isn't. She's my  _ best  _ friend, Daddy. Will people be mean to Clarissa because she's different too? I don't want people to be mean to her!”

“Oh, honey, no, of course not...” Bucky murmured, drawing her into a close hug as his daughter at last lost the battle with her emotions, and began to cry.

Bucky held Sadie and let her cry, at a loss of what he could say to make her feel better, or if he even  _ could _ .

Instead, he stayed quiet, and rubbed her back, letting Sadie get all the anguish out of her system.

 

~*~

 

Once Sadie had cried herself out, Bucky gathered her up somewhat awkwardly in his one arm, and carried her back inside. He set her down on the couch at the opposite end to where Steve still lay, but  immediately she moved to Steve's side, and crawled up to lie on Steve's chest, while Bea shifted, curling up at Steve's feet, ensconcing the alpha in warmth and love. 

Bucky smiled, his heart swelling at the sight of the trio. Despite all the trouble at the store, now the sight of them reminded Bucky of a Father and Daughter—what Brock  _ should  _ have been, if he wasn't so busy beating the shit out of him and Sadie.

Bucky shook his head, refusing to dwell on the thought of  _ him _ . He had Steve now, and he was better than Brock had ever been.

Instead, Bucky headed for the door again, turning away from his family, intent to finally get the groceries out of the car.


	11. Imperfections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Late, I'm sorry v.v I'll be temporarily moving my updates to Tuesday for the foreseeable future, given that this seems to be the soonest I am able to put out a chapter lately. That said, next update will be August 13th. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: References to Miscarriage**

Chapter Eleven – Imperfections

 

Bucky was in the middle of making ciabatta croutons when Steve finally woke up, nearly three hours later.

The big alpha wandered into the kitchen with Bea at his heels, looking visibly nervous, as though he expected Bucky to throw him out the moment he woke up. Bucky watched him out of the corner of his eye, smiling sadly as he did so. Steve was much more fragile than he'd initially believed, and that was a mistake he was keen to rectify as soon as possible.

“Hey, baby,” Bucky said, smiling as he stepped back from the cutting board, and slid over to Steve, kissing him tenderly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone switched my brain out for a big ball of cotton,” Steve admitted with a weak laugh, and Bucky smiled at him softly.

“Want some coffee?”

“I'd love that, actually.”

Still smiling, Bucky stepped away from Steve reluctantly in order to pour him a cup from the pot he'd prepared a little earlier, having expected that Steve would need something of a pick-me-up.

“You're a _saint_ ,” Steve said as Bucky passed him the large blue mug filled to the brim, and sat down at the breakfast bar while Bucky went back to cooking. Everything was almost ready, and really he'd just been waiting for Steve and Sadie to wake up before he served it. “Um, Buck?”

“No.”

“What?”

“I know what you're going to say, and _no_ , Steve,” Bucky said firmly, not turning around from heating up the pan which he planned to use for his croutons. “You're not going to beat yourself up and apologize to me five thousand times for having a dissociative episode. We've all been there, and it sucks, but it _happens_. That bitch did that to you; it's not like you _wanted_ to dissociate. Plus, you didn't hurt anyone, so I don't want to hear your apologies. You did nothing wrong, baby.”

“I don't have to punch someone to hurt them,” Steve pointed out, his voice dark. “Sadie, she—”

“—she was shaken, not _hurt_ ,” Bucky interrupted coldly, turning around just enough to shoot the alpha a glare. “I know my daughter, Steve, and I've _seen_ her hurt. I've seen what asshole alphas can do when they think they can get away with it. I've spent sleepless nights _agonizing_ over the fact that I couldn't protect my baby girl. You didn't hurt her, so just _leave_ it.”

Steve immediately shut his mouth, and ducked his head like a scolded puppy.

Bucky swallowed his guilt as he turned back to the stove, dumping the cubed bread into the pan with a satisfying hiss from the olive oil. Maybe he was being a little hard on Steve, considering he'd just come down from a major PTSD episode, but Bucky couldn't find it in himself to feel guilty about that. Steve didn't know Sadie, and he wasn't about to let another alpha try and run his life for him.

“I'm gonna tell her therapist, anyway,” Bucky added while he stirred the bread with a wooden spoon. “She has way better qualifications to deal with this sort of shit than I do.”

“That's a good idea,” Steve replied, his tone still distinctly downtrodden. “I didn't mean to hur—to scare her.”

“I know you didn't,” Bucky replied, his voice a little softer this time while he stirred the bread. “And you definitely scared her, and the fact that she's seen worse doesn't exactly make it _okay_ , but it's not like you meant to do it, and that really makes a huge difference, trust me.”

“Um...should I go?” Steve asked tentatively, “before she wakes up, I mean?”

“No, you are going to sit your magnificent alpha ass down at our kitchen table,” Bucky replied crossly. “Then we're going to eat my masterpiece. You're going to listen to Sadie talk about her bugs, then after she goes to bed, you and I are going to watch TV and we're going to make out like teenagers. _Then_ you can go home.”

“ _Pushy omega_ ,” Steve muttered under his breath, and Bucky inclined his neck to offer Steve a sly smirk.

“Damn straight.”

Bucky turned back to the stove, and transferred the hot ciabatta croutons to a bowl while he began to prepare the salad—baby spinach, cooked yellow beets dressed with olive oil and mint, toasted walnuts, apple, dry shallots, crumbled feta cheese, and the rest of the chopped mint were arranged neatly in the bowl. Bucky tossed it with the salad spoons, then scattered the fresh croutons on top. He set it aside and hastily mixed together the dressing—a simple combination of apple cider vinegar, sour cream, and some more shallots, before he laid everything on the table, along with some red fruit punch for Sadie, and an uncorked bottle of red wine, which Bucky had opened earlier to let it breathe.

“This looks damn fancy, Buck,” Steve said with a weak smile, “and maybe a good thing you offered salad for dinner—my stomach's acting a little funny.”

Bucky wasn't sure if Steve meant a lack of appetite, anxiety, or some mixture of the two. Instead, he leant in to offer Steve a sweet, if brief, kiss.

“We'll talk about everything later—properly, after Sadie's gone to bed, okay, baby? But only if you want to.”

Steve nodded, his mouth quirking into a weak smile of understanding before he pulled Bucky in for one last kiss.

“Go wake up your baby girl,” Steve murmured, his voice warm and coaxing. “I promise to be the best me in front of her—I don't want to scare her again.”

Bucky had heard such promises before—many times.

But from Steve, they felt real.

Feeling much calmer and much warmer than before, Bucky turned from him, his stomach still in a jumbled knot. He couldn't quite say what exactly was making him so nervous—Steve seeing Sadie and saying something stupid, Sadie triggering Steve by accident, or some combination thereof.

_Maybe letting Steve stay after his episode was a bad idea,_ Bucky mused, only to have his guilt worsen as he recalled Steve's weak plea that he didn't want to be alone.

Bucky knew that if he had forced Steve to go, he would never be able to forgive himself. Riding out panic attacks were bad enough, but they were always a thousand times worse when you had no one to talk to. He couldn't make Steve leave—he just _couldn't._

 

When Bucky at last came upon his daughter, he found Sadie on the couch, looking curiously small without Steve or Bea curled up with her. Pistachio was sitting under the table like an angry balloon, looking distinctly put-off by the dog smell that had permeated the space ever since Bucky had brought Steve home. Bucky chuckled softly at the cat's attitude before he turned back to his daughter, and reached out to her.

“Sadie,” Bucky whispered as he rubbed her back, “Sadie, honey, it's time to wake up.”

Sadie let out a soft, disgruntled whine as he eyelids fluttered for a moment before they opened a crack.

“Daddy?” she asked groggily, “what's going on?”

“It's suppertime, honey,” Bucky explained, smiling a little. “Steve's waiting for us. Are you hungry?”

“I think my tummy is still asleep,” she said as she yawned. “Do I have to eat?”

“You should try,” Bucky replied as he coaxed her up into a sitting position. “If you don't eat now, you'll be _really_ hungry later.” He smiled, and took one of her little hands. “Come on, I bet by the time you wash up, your tummy will have woken up.”

“Okay.”

Bucky led her to the bathroom, and helped her wash her hands. He touched her cheeks with a little cold water, telling her that it might help her wake up, to which she merely complained that it was too cold.

Still smiling, they dried off, and the father and daughter headed to the kitchen where Steve was waiting.

 

When they at last reached the kitchen, Bucky smiled when he saw the wine and juice poured out into their respective glasses, and everyone had been properly served. Steve was waiting patiently for them, his hands in his lap, and a hopeful smile on his face, with Bea curled up at his feet protectively.

“Hey there, Miss Sadie,” Steve said when he saw her, his voice edged with nervousness. “How was your sleep?”

“Good,” she replied, smiling shyly at Steve, though Bucky could feel her little hand tighten in his. “I didn't know I was so sleepy.”

“Sometimes when you get sad, you get sleepy after,” Steve offered. “It's very tiring to be sad.”

“That's what Denise says,” Sadie said. “She always says that it's better to be happy than sad, 'cause then your body is happy too, and not so sleepy.”

“That's good advice,” Steve agreed as she and Bucky sat down. “Who's Denise?”

“My special friend,” Sadie replied. “She's old like you, but still fun. Her office has lots of toys.”

Bucky snorted, while Steve looked a little lost on how to respond, and when he glanced imploringly up at Bucky, he mouthed, _her child therapist_ , to which Steve nodded in understanding.

“Do you see Denise often?” Steve asked curiously, and Sadie shrugged.

“Sometimes,” Sadie replied. “I saw where a whole lot when Papa went away, and then when I felt better, I didn't see her a whole lot. Sometimes Daddy lets me miss school to go and see her, and we _always_ go for hamburgers afterwards!”

“Always, huh?” Steve asked, chuckling warmly, and Sadie nodded.

“I love hamburgers. I love them so much, but Daddy said that hamburgers turn your insides to pudding if you eat them all the time, so I don't mind when we don't have them.”

“ _Pudding_?” Steve asked with a snort, and Bucky felt his face go red as he topped Sadie's salad with a small dollop of dressing before she enthusiastically dug in.

“I was trying to explain arteries to her, and stuff like that,” Bucky said, hastily going for his wine and taking a large sip while Steve continued to laugh.

“I think I like the pudding explanation better.”

“Yeah, I'll bet.”

 

~*~

 

The trio followed their dinner with ice cream and oreos, paired with coffee for the adults, and warm milk with honey for Sadie.

The warming drink did the trick, making Sadie yawn sleepily, given that suppertime had gone into her usual bedtime, though Bucky was given something of a shock when Sadie said, “Steve, can you do bedtime with me?”

Steve stared, as though Sadie had suddenly begun speaking Hebrew, while Sadie gazed back at him with a sweet smile and a milk moustache.

Steve shifted his eyes to Bucky, visibly at a loss for what to do, though he seemed to relax a little when when Bucky nodded encouragingly.

“You might need to show Steve what to do, honey,” Bucky said, grinning a little when Steve blushed, and Sadie reached for his hand.

“Come on, Steve, I have to have a bath, then I need my jammies, and brush my teeth. Then Daddy dries my hair, and stories!”

“That sounds like a lot, Miss Sadie,” Steve said with a slightly uneasy laugh, and glanced to Bucky again pleadingly, and Bucky fought his urge to laugh.

“Come on, Sade,” Bucky said as he got up, smiling at his daughter encouragingly. “Give poor Steve a break. I'll help you get ready for bed, then he can read to you. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed readily, and Bucky noted how Steve immediately relaxed.

 

~*~

 

As promised, Bucky helped Sadie with her bath, getting into her pyjamas, brushing her teeth, and drying her hair, then let Steve take over, watching from the doorway as Steve read Sadie _When you Give a Mouse a Cookie_ to her before he somewhat awkwardly tucked the little girl in, and smiled at her.

“Steve?” Sadie asked sweetly, just as he moved to leave the room, and the alpha jolted to a stop.

“Yes, Miss Sadie?”

“Can you sing to me?” she asked innocently. “Sometimes Daddy sings to me before sleepies when it's a Bad Day.”

“What would you like to hear?” Steve asked, backtracking to sit on the edge of her bed gently, the springs audibly groaning in protest to his weight.

“I dunno. Something you like.”

There was a pause, then when Steve began to sing, somewhat flatly, it took all of Bucky's self-control to not groan out loud.

 

“ _You are_

_my fire,_

_The one_

_desire,_

_Believe_

_When I say_

_I want it that way..._ ”

 

Steve sang the whole song, word-for word, including backing vocals, getting almost too into it, while Bucky stuffed his fist in his mouth, shaking with laughter.

When Steve at last made an appearance, Bucky grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hall before he leant in and flicked the alpha on the ear.

“ _Ow!_ ” Steve hissed, laughing as he lifted a hand to cup the appendage while he grinned at Bucky. “What was that for?”

“ _Backstreet Boys_? Seriously?” Bucky hissed, though he couldn't help but grin as he said it. “You're gonna give my kid awful taste in music.”

“Well what does Mr Dad usually sing her to sleep with?”

“Guns N' Roses, obviously,” Bucky replied, smirking when Steve snorted. “Or Mötley Crüe. But mostly GNR.”

“Obviously,” Steve echoed with a soft chuckle. “So really you're just mad 'cause you're some kind of music elitist?”

“Obviously,” Bucky repeated, using the same tone as Steve, making him laugh. “I don't want my child growing up in a world where she thinks that boy bands are cooler than hair metal.”

“You're _so_ pretentious,” Steve said with an affectionate laugh, one arm draping across Bucky's waist as they headed from the hall and into the living room, where Bea was waiting for them. “Hey, um, I still need to feed Bea, so can I go and...do that...and then come back with her? I gotta take her out to pee too, so it'll be twenty minutes, tops.”

“Sure,” Bucky agreed readily, before he leant in to press a kiss to Steve's lips. “Take your time, baby. I'll make us some snacks, and we can watch TV. Do you like tea?”

“Not a huge tea person, to be honest,” Steve admitted with a weak laugh, his cheeks tinting pink in embarrassment, as though he had uttered some sort of horrible swear word.

“Hot chocolate?” Bucky offered, and Steve smiled.

 

~*~

 

The house felt strangely empty without Steve in it, and Bucky filled the quiet as best he could while he prepared the tea and hot chocolate, along with a platter of chocolate-covered shortbread.

For some wild reason, Bucky decided to spoil Steve a little, and prepared hot chocolate for him from scratch instead of using the powder mix. He combined whole milk and two kinds of chopped chocolate in a little saucepan, along with a dash of vanilla, and stirred, watching as the heat melted the chocolate into little threads before it dissolved into a smooth liquid, which Bucky poured into a tall mug for his alpha.

Bucky covered the drinks to keep them hot, but he didn't have to wait long as he heard Steve return, and Bucky added the last touches to his masterpiece, topping Steve's mug with whipped cream in a careful swirl, and he grated some dark chocolate on top before he carried the platter carefully to the living room.

Steve didn't call out when he stepped inside, which Bucky thought was a smart move, as it would have woken Sadie up. Instead he padded with a modicum of overcautiousness to the living room, with Bea's leash in hand, before he glanced at the coffee table and promptly snorted.

“What?” Bucky asked at once. “What's wrong?”

“Jeez, Buck,” Steve said as he unhooked Bea's leash and carefully picked up the mug of hot chocolate, examining it like one might observe a sculpture. “One might think you're compensating for something here.”

“What?” Bucky demanded with a soft snort, and he grinned at Steve innocently. “Can't I just make my boyfriend something nice?”

“Something nice and gourmet?” Steve teased back, though he was smiling warmly, clearly appreciative of the gesture despite his lighthearted teasing. “This looks incredible, Bucky. How did you manage this in less than twenty minutes?”

“Black magic and animal sacrifice,” Bucky quipped, grinning a little, and Steve laughed as he settled onto the couch with Bucky, and watched as Steve carefully, almost reverently, took a small experimental sip.

Bucky had been reaching for the remote, but upon seeing what Steve was about to do, he paused, and watched the alpha with a small smirk on his face.

“Oh sweet baby Jesus,” Steve breathed, and Bucky snorted. “Bucky, I honestly would _not_ be shocked if you actually used black magic to make this. It's... _awesome_.”

Steve took a bigger, more enthusiastic sip, giving himself a whipped cream moustache in the process.

Feeling a little wicked, Bucky pried Steve's mug from his hands before he leant in to lick away the cream, right before he pressed a kiss to Steve's lips, making him gasp softly.

“Buck...” Steve began, his tone soft and uncertain, as though he wanted to make Bucky stop, but couldn't quite bring himself to.

“Steve, this okay?” Bucky breathed, his hand cradling his cheek, while Steve continued to gaze at him with a glazed-over look. “I just...after today, I though we could both unwind a little.”

“How unwound are we talking here, Buck?” Steve asked, his hands dropping to Bucky's waist, “'Cause I don't wanna push you if you're not ready, and also I don't wanna freak Sadie out if she wakes up and sees us necking like a couple of teenagers...”

“Jesus, how old are you?” Bucky teased, “no one says _necking_ anymore.”

“Bucky, that's not the point,” Steve urged, a scowl pinching his handsome face. “I just...I know a bit of what you went through from what you've told me, and I don't wanna do something too soon that'll...trigger you.”

Bucky bit his lip, regarding Steve uncertainly as he tried to work through his thoughts on everything. After the day they'd had, Bucky _really_ wanted to unwind, though how much he really had no idea. He had just wanted to see where the evening took them. Concurrently, he was _thrilled_ that Steve had thought of Sadie at all, and wasn't being some knothead about the prospect of sex. It was obvious that Steve cared for Sadie beyond simply her being _his boyfriend's kid,_ and that made Bucky's heart swell with joy.

On top of all that was the looming figure of Brock. Bucky hadn't wanted to think about him while in the arms (or in this case, the lap) of another alpha, and he wanted to be pissed at Steve for even bringing him up, but Steve hadn't mentioned the bastard in some twisted effort to upset Bucky, but out of concern.

Above all, Steve didn't want to remind Bucky of things he didn't want to be reminded of.

Bucky leant in again and kissed Steve softly, at a loss for words. The alpha's arm tightened around Bucky's waist, but instead of feeling constricted, Bucky felt taken care of, and loved.

“I don't know where this is headed,” Bucky whispered against Steve's lips, not at all sure if he was talking about this particular evening, or their relationship. “But...I dunno, with you I never feel like I'm being pushed. I just want you all the time, Steve.”

“Let's just take it slow, okay, sugar?” Steve asked, his mouth twitching into a grin when Bucky's face flooded red at the nickname. “Not just for you. I want to enjoy getting to know you, not just jumping in bed for sex. If you want, we can make a whole thing of it, and do it on your next heat—what?”

Clearly, Steve had noticed how Bucky's expression had shifted incrementally, and he laughed a little.

“Um...you're gonna be waiting a real long time if you want to have sex on my next heat,” Bucky said, and Steve blinked at him in confusion.

“Uh...can I ask why?”

“Short version is that Sadie _almost_ had a sibling,” Bucky replied without looking directly at Steve. “I never told her, mostly because I never started to show. I miscarried, but it took a while for me to notice, and I got really, _really_ sick. When I went to the hospital, they told me because of how my body was or something, I had a big risk of dying if I had another kid. I don't remember everything. Something about my uterine lining...or whatever. I told them to to give me a hysterectomy, and I never told Brock. He was fucking _pissed_ when he found out eventually though. It was kinda hard to hide the fact that I stopped having heats from him.”

“Oh,” Steve replied, and paused as he bit his lower lip, his expression making it obvious to Bucky that the alpha was searching for something to say. “I'm sorry that happened to you, Buck. That must've been really scary, with...you know...a partner who wasn't exactly into giving you body autonomy.”

“That's one way to put it,” Bucky said with a small grimace. “Are you okay with that? I mean...me not being able to have any more kids?”

“I think that's a conversation for a few _years_ from now, at least,” Steve teased, but when he saw Bucky's frown he sobered quickly and rephrased his answer. “I think you got your hands full with Sadie, and it's not my call what you do with your body, Buck. If you're asking me if I think you're _less_ for having that done...no, definitely not; I like you how you are. If you're asking me if sometime in the _far_ future we wanna give Sadie a sibling, there are other ways—surrogacy, or adoption, or whatever. We can talk about it more when the time comes if we need to.”

“Do you _ever_ get tired of being so perfect?” Bucky joked, and Steve answered with a painfully adorable crooked smile.

“I'm not perfect, Buck, not by a long shot,” Steve replied, “I just...it's important that you get a say with how you run your body. It's not my job to make big decisions for you like when you can or can't have kids.”

Bucky didn't know what to say to that.

As he gazed up at Steve, he realized belatedly that thanks to Brock, he had no idea how to react to a significant other who _genuinely_ had his best interests at heart, and didn't want to control him.

Instead, Bucky kissed Steve, realizing that for the moment that was all he wanted to do with Steve—kiss.

More would come, and likely soon. That much was obvious to Bucky, though it did not frighten him. He trusted Steve, and he wanted their first time together to be _perfect_.

Steve kissed Bucky back with equal warmth, as though he understood what Bucky needed without the omega ever having to say it. His arms stayed wound around Bucky, holding him gently, like one would hold a china doll, and yet Bucky felt no anger at this delicacy. He felt so safe and protected, it made him almost want to weep.

“I'm glad we're already so solid,” Bucky breathed in lieu of what he really wanted to say. _I love you._ “It's probably good before I meet your friends.”

“My friends aren't like...The Spanish Inquisition,” Steve offered, a lilt of apology in his expression, though Bucky didn't complain. His sister _had_ been the fucking Spanish Inquisition. “They're really good people, except maybe Tony.”

“Why's that?” Bucky asked with a soft laugh as he punctuated their conversation with more kisses, which Steve seemed all too happy to reciprocate.

“He has this annoying habit of wanting to fix everything, even when it makes him sound like a jackass,” Steve said with a wince. “He...well, he kinda drives himself into the ground trying to help people, while at the same time he somehow manages to come off as some sort of self-absorbed eccentric. Chances are he'll offer you some sort of free super fancy robot arm the second he notices that you're...”

Steve trailed off, as though he couldn't bring himself to say _an_ _amputee_.

“ _Disarmed_?” Bucky offered mildly, and Steve choked.

“You can't _say_ that!”

“Yeah, I can,” Bucky retorted with a grin before he poked Steve in the chest as he added, “but _you_ can't.”

Steve laughed, clearly understanding the joke, though it quickly petered out to merely a soft smile, and he moved in to kiss Bucky again.

“Come on,” his alpha said, “let's see what's on TV.”

 


	12. Alone At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for August 27th. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: Implied Sexual Abuse, Accidental Noncon Act (Technically Non-Sexual), Triggered PTSD**

Chapter Twelve – Alone At Last

 

In the final week leading up to the _Meeting Steve's Friends Barbecue_ , Bucky had become something of a tangle of nerves. He tried to decide how to best explain what he was feeling to Steve when he asked Bucky how he was feeling nigh constantly, only to come up empty on how to answer the alpha. Instead, Bucky insisted that he was fine, and changed the subject, only to have Steve bring it up again not long after. Eventually, Bucky threatened to call it off if he kept bugging him with more _feelings talks,_ thus finally succeeding in shutting Steve up on the topic.

It was true—he was fine.

Mostly.

Bucky knew himself well enough to know that most of his anxiety was really just that— _anxiety_. The _what ifs_ his mind conjured likely had no bearing on reality, and it was just his stupid brain throwing him into something not unlike survival mode because he couldn't handle too many people at once any more.

But Bucky wanted to handle more people. Not just for Steve, but for himself too.

Even his therapist had said as much, which was a big help in keeping Bucky from abruptly calling the whole thing off when he got almost overwhelmingly nervous at the prospect of actually meeting Steve's friends.

 

“ _You gotta remember why you're doing this whole Barbecue thing, Buck,” Sam said. “Are you doing it for you, for Steve, or for both of you?”_

“ _Both, but for different reasons,” Bucky explained in between sips of iced coffee. “I want to be able to handle social situations like I used to. I want to be able to go dancing with Steve, or to some vaguely crowded place and not feel like I can't breathe. Seven or so people isn't a lot; I want to be able to do this, and I want to meet Steve's friends—they're real important to him. He always says that they're his_ big dysfunctional family _.”_

“ _Then use that as your mantra, Bucky,” Sam encouraged, tilting his own plastic iced coffee cup towards Bucky in something that was almost a toast. “Remind yourself why you're doing it, but don't be afraid to take breaks while the celebration's going on. No one is gonna be upset if you go inside or to the bathroom to take a breather from the people. Set up a code with Steve if you need it. You say he's a vet, so he'll understand if you need a break. Even though seven people isn't very much, for someone who struggles with your brand of anxiety, it can feel like a hundred. Don't push yourself; know your limits.”_

 

It had been good advice, and Bucky did indeed do as Sam suggested. He and Steve decided that if Bucky needed a break, he could text Steve, and he'd cover while Bucky hid in the bathroom for a few minutes. Following that, Steve had asked if they needed a Sadie Code as well, to which Bucky began to laugh.

 

“Oh, baby, if Sadie needs a break, we'll know pretty much before she does,” Bucky replied, still laughing as he continued making dinner, with Steve manning the salad prep after Bucky had insisted that his pasta recipe needed _special attention_.

“Why is that sounding really, really ominous?” Steve asked between chuckles as he dumped freshly washed mesculin into the salad bowl, and began to top it with the veggies he had prepped—yellow cherry tomatoes, sugar snap pea pods, carrots, green onion, and watermelon radish, most of which had come straight from Steve's garden. To Steve's words, Bucky snorted.

“Probably 'cause when she gets overwhelmed she gets cranky, and within a minute she'll pitch a fucking fit,” Bucky explained as he put aside the fried portobello mushrooms as well as the steamed peas, and began to work on the pasta.

“Oh, fun,” Steve laughed, and stopped his meal prep in order to swoop in and kiss Bucky lightly on the lips. Bucky laughed, and batted the alpha away halfheartedly as Steve added, “well, if I see her getting grumpy, I'll let you know. We can set something up for her inside, maybe some colouring books or something, so that she can take a breather? I'll cover for her too so you won't be volleying too many questions from my more high-strung friends.”

“Are we talking about Tony again?” Bucky teased, and Steve blushed.

“One of his nicknames is the Dad Friend of our group, and not just because he has a penchant for terrible Dad Jokes.”

“ _Please_ ,” Bucky said with a dramatic huff as he watched the pot of water begin to steam, but not truly boil. “I definitely have worse dad jokes than this Tony guy.”

“Well you haven't heard his jokes—”

“What's the difference between a shabbily dressed man on a tricycle, and a well-dressed man on a bicycle?” Bucky asked, pausing for a half-beat before he said, “ _Attire_.”

“Okay, that's pretty bad, but—”

“—Did you hear about the police station that got broken into and had their toilet stolen? The detectives have got nothin' to go on.”

“Bucky, okay, I get it—”

“—What do you get when you drop a piano down a mine shaft?” Bucky continued, grinning as he threw the punchline at Steve, “A Flat Miner.”

“Okay, stop!” Steve said as he laughed. “I'm sorry I doubted you, sugar.”

“Damn right,” Bucky said with a grin as he carefully gathered the dry spaghetti in his hand, and dropped it into the pot of boiling water.

Bucky continued on with the rest of the meal prep, interjecting as many awful jokes as he could think of as he went. By the time he was stirring the beaten eggs over the cooked pasta for his famous Spaghetti Carbo _nada_ (given that it had no pancetta or bacon in it) it was something of a marvel that Steve hadn't dumped his stupid ass yet. In fact, he laughed at every dumb joke as though Bucky was the very embodiment of Comedy.

“So,” Steve said as he watched Bucky stir the eggs and pasta together carefully into a perfect, creamy sauce. “How exactly can _raw eggs_ be a good topping for pasta?”

“The spaghetti is super hot from cooking, so they won't be raw when we eat it,” Bucky replied, an edge of annoyance to his voice, given that he'd already told Steve this— _twice._ He tossed in some grated asiago, then folded in the peas and mushrooms carefully to ensure that the mushrooms did not turn his masterpiece an unappealing, uniform grey. “I promise this is amazing, just wait and see.”

“Well if I get salmonella poisoning, you're paying my hospital bills,” Steve retorted, and Bucky barked a laugh.

“Come on, baby, it's really good, I promise,” Bucky said as he switched his tongs for his tasting fork, and curled a small, timid bite onto the tines. “Sadie is at a sleepover, it's _just_ the two of us, and I wanted to make something nice...”

“You _always_ make something nice,” Steve purred inching closer to Bucky as he spoke. “You're like...the Master Chef. You make me look like a dancing monkey in comparison.”

“That's not hard when pretty much everything you eat comes frozen,” Bucky teased, smiling a little as he offered up the fork. “Come on, give it a try.”

Steve eyed the fork uncertainly, then with a steeling expression, he leant forward and took the morsel of pasta, mushroom, and peas off the utensil in one bite.

Immediately, his eyes went wide, and clearly not in distaste.

“Oh. My. God.” Steve said, his voice thick from the food in his mouth. “Fuck me sideways and call me a fairy. Buck, that's... _awesome._ ”

Bucky snorted, bowing forward as he tossed aside the fork in order to cling to Steve, laughing far too hard for such a small remark.

“Where the _hell_ did you hear something that... _stupid_?” Bucky demanded between giggles, while Steve grinned a big goofy grin, and reached for the fork again.

“Serve up your masterpiece and I'll tell you... _maybe._ ”

Bucky laughed again but complied to Steve's request, plating the pasta while Steve carried the salad bowl and bottle of red wine to the table, along with some dressing from the fridge. They sat across from each other, Bucky loading his plate with more salad than pasta, and Steve chuckled warmly as he watched, teasing the stem of his wineglass with his fingertips, his eyes never leaving the omega for long.

“What are you lookin' at?” Bucky asked as he grabbed the raspberry vinaigrette, and drizzled it over his serving of salad. The question made Steve's smile broaden, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little as he watched him.

“You,” Steve replied, his voice low and breathy. “I love watching you.”

Bucky felt the heat rise in his face, his gaze dropping to his plate, enabling him to rescue his serving of pasta from being touched by the salad dressing. He didn't really know what to say to that, and his blush only worsened when he felt Steve's foot hook around his ankle, making it clear which part of the body Steve was currently thinking with.

“You nervous about tomorrow, sugar?”

“No—yes—a little,” Bucky babbled out all at once, and winced as he looked up at his boyfriend. “Should I be?”

“No, my friends are good people, I promise,” Steve replied, still smiling warmly as he gazed at Bucky. “I'll have an Alone Zone set up if you or Sadie need a break, and all of my friends understand mental illness stuff—not just 'cause of me, but most of 'em have some sort of issue. Those who don't are the best damn allies you've ever seen. I can't _tell_ you how many times Pepper or Nat have jumped in on my behalf, even when I could've handled it myself. They give Mama Bear a whole new meaning...but in a good way.”

“ _Alone Zone_ ,” Bucky echoed, chuckling softly as he sipped his wine. “I mean, I'm always nervous with new people, so it's hard to _not_ be nervous, but your stories about your friends help a whole lot. I think it'll be okay, once we get over that...sort of...hump. You know?”

“Hump, you say?” Steve asked, arching a suggestive brow, which made Bucky snort into his wine.

“Is there something you're hinting at, Mr Rogers?” Bucky asked innocently, and Steve grinned.

“Well, I'm only hinting if you're into it. If you're not into it, I was totally joking and we can change the subject.”

“Oh, it's tempting,” Bucky replied, smiling as he reached his foot out to hook it around Steve's ankle, like he had done to him mere moments before. “But only if you promise to knock it off with this walking on eggshells thing around me when it comes to sex. If I'm not into it, I'll tell you. You've shown me that you're not gonna flip your biscuits if I say no, so you don't need to be so nervous about bringing it up. Got it?”

“ _Flip my biscuits?_ ” Steve asked in response, and Bucky snorted.

“It's what Ma used to say. Now—deal? Stop being so careful with me? I might be an omega, but that doesn't mean I'm fragile. I don't break easy.”

“I'm getting that,” Steve replied, smiling as he reached across the table to touch Bucky's arm. “Sorry. I know you're not some delicate little flower, but I just worry. I don't wanna trigger you by accident. I know how much it can suck.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, abandoning his forkful of pasta in favour of taking Steve's hand and offering it a brief, gentle squeeze before he turned back to his dinner. “Speaking of triggers...your birthday is in about two weeks...and...uh...this neighbourhood isn't shy about fireworks, y'know, being Albany and all.”

“It occurred to me,” Steve said with a slight grimace as he too returned to his food. “I was gonna go out of town, maybe go camping for the weekend or something, but I'm a bit of a home-body these days, and I get weird if I'm away for too long. I bought some industrial-strength noise-cancelling headphones...I thought I'd try riding it out.”

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, despite the fact that he wasn't so sure how well that would work. However, he understood how delicate a topic fireworks were for most vets—they needed to find their own way to deal with it, not be _told_ how to get through the holiday. “If you need anything, I'll be right next door, okay? We can hang out in my basement with the TV on real loud if that would help.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve replied with a small, tired smile, though he did not elaborate on whether or not he wanted to do that.

Instead, both men returned to their meals, eating in peaceful, comfortable silence.

 

~*~

 

After dinner, Bucky broke out a dessert of a chocolate cheesecake and cups of coffee, which they ate in front of the TV while they watched a few episodes of _Chopped_.

Steve finished his slice first, and coaxed Bucky into his lap while the omega continued with his slice. Bucky pretended to ignore Steve's myriad of attempts to get him _in the mood,_ though if he was being honest with himself, they were working almost _too_ well.

“Having fun back there?” Bucky asked, grinning as he felt Steve's big hands slide under his T-shirt and tickle their way up his sides, while the alpha placed a soft, loving kiss to the side of his neck.

“Mmm...so much fun,” Steve breathed against his skin, licking a stripe over his bonding gland and causing Bucky to shiver and groan with confused, almost nervous longing simultaneously. As much as he liked Steve, he knew he wasn't ready for _that_ yet. “I think it'd be even better if you put away that cheesecake and let me carry you to the bedroom...”

“You had me until _put away the cheesecake_ ,” Bucky replied as he pointedly took another huge bite, and laughed when Steve let out a small groan and kissed his neck again. As he did so, he reached around Bucky, his hands still under his shirt, and trailed them up in order to tease his nipples while Bucky took his time with the cheesecake.

 

“Buuuck,” Steve whined, almost like a puppy being denied his favourite treat, and Bucky laughed as he licked his fork almost excruciatingly slowly before he turned to press a kiss to the corner of Steve's lips.

“Just let me put the plates and stuff in the dishwasher, then I _promise_ we can finish our night—” Bucky began, letting out a yelp as he was suddenly dislodged from Steve's lap. The man in question all but dove at the table in an effort to gather up the dishes as quickly as possible, and Bucky laughed as he watched the alpha _race_ to the kitchen in order to put them away.

Just as quickly, Steve hastened back to the living room. Bea lifted her head as though to check on Steve, but appeared placated that he was in no real distress before she laid her head across her paws again.

Steve scooped Bucky up as though he weighed nothing, making the omega laugh as he reached his arm up, wrapping it around Steve's neck in order to steady himself.

“You're a dork,” Bucky murmured, which made Steve grin.

“Yeah, but I'm _your_ dork,” he countered, making Bucky laugh again as Steve hurried up to Bucky's room at full speed.

From anyone else, Bucky may have gotten annoyed by the over-cautious _handling_ of him, in particular the gentle way Steve eased him down on the bed. Bucky wasn't made of glass, after all, and he _certainly_ wasn't some dainty little omega who needed to be taken care of. He was big, almost as tall as Steve, and _strong_. He'd managed to maintain most of his muscle mass even after being out of the army for several years, and no one in their right mind would misconstrue Bucky as _weak_.

And yet, for whatever reason, when Steve did it, Bucky _liked_ it.

Bucky didn't really know why, and part of him didn't really care. Maybe it was the mutual understanding of the concept of trauma, of PTSD, and of how equally fucked up they both were. Maybe it was because when he told Steve the disjointed bits and pieces of his past, Steve had not treated him like a victim, but a survivor.

The idea that Steve wasn't going to treat him like an invalid because of what he went through filled Bucky with newfound warmth. He let out a tiny moan of longing as Steve carefully braced his knees and elbows around Bucky, bracketing his body, but not caging him in.

Bucky arched up, kissing his alpha before Steve could ask again _if he was sure_. He was damn sure, and he wasn't going to have his doofus boyfriend ruin the moment by repeating the sentiment five thousand times in a row.

“Want you,” Bucky breathed against Steve's kiss-damp lips, and Steve answered with a soft alpha growl of need.

“Gonna knot you, Buck,” Steve replied, his voice hoarse, and his jeans tented in his clear want. “Gonna knot you so good. Make you feel good.”

The disjointed talk was something Bucky had seen before—it was like all alphas ceased higher brain function during sex. Steve wanted him, but he wasn't forcing himself on Bucky—despite his words and searing kisses, his body was tense, as though he was holding back just enough, waiting for Bucky to voice his consent before he surged forward.

“Yes,” Bucky whispered, “knot me, _fuck me._ ”

As predicted, the verbal consent urged Steve forward, and he claimed Bucky's mouth again while he clumsily tried to yank Bucky's shirt off without breaking the kiss. Bucky laughed warmly, pulling back from the kiss long enough to help Steve get the garment off, then returned the favour, peeling Steve's too-tight T-shirt up and over his head, at last granting Bucky the delicious view of Steve's Adonis-like chest.

“Oh, fuck me, I knew you were gorgeouser under that damn shirt...” Bucky murmured, his voice almost dream-like, which caused Steve to snort with laughter.

“With pleasure, sugar,” Steve replied, apparently having regained some of his verbal ability, one hand moving down to tug at the buckle of Bucky's belt while he murmured, “how d'you wanna do this? Can I fuck you from behind without your arm tiring out?”

“My arm will give out, definitely,” Bucky said, grimacing a little. “Oh, wait, idea—hang on, let me up.”

Steve obliged without hesitation, sitting back while he fumbled with the zipper on his own jeans one-handed, extracting a condom with the other, the sight, again, making Bucky smile. True, Bucky couldn't get pregnant, but he appreciated the caution nonetheless—STIs were still a thing, and considering the short period they'd been together, it wasn't irrational to be careful.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Bucky grabbed two of the thicker, firmer pillows from the head of his bed and stacked them up before he turned to Steve and explained, “I'll rest myself on these, and use my arm to keep myself from sliding everywhere. I should be about regular mounting height. Is that okay?”

“Works for me,” Steve replied, grinning like a dork, as though he was proud of Bucky's solution to their problem, before he held out his arms to the omega invitingly. “C'mere, sugar, I want some _sugar_.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shifting back over to Steve, who continued to smile as Bucky kissed him, and reached down to fiddle with Steve's pants instead of his own, opening the top button before he moved to carefully unzip the garment, but at the same moment swore into Steve's mouth.

For how innocent the alpha acted, it was quite the shock when Bucky realized that the man went _commando_.

“Something wrong, baby?”

“Oh _hell_ no,” Bucky replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he went back to unzipping Steve's jeans before he gently cupped the hot organ in his hand. The thing was _enormous_. “You're massive, baby.”

“I won't hurt you,” Steve swore, his voice dropping slightly in volume, as though he was determined to impart on Bucky that he would never do anything that might harm his partner.

“I know, baby,” Bucky replied, reaching up to touch Steve's cheek, which brought a sweet smile out of the alpha.

The kiss was far more brief than their previous ones, before they pulled back in order to shed the remainder of their clothing. Steve seemed to still upon seeing Bucky's nude form, though it was hard to tell if the expression was from misplaced nerves, or some other source.

Steve ran a hand across Bucky's inner thigh, making him shiver. His own cock was standing at attention, leaking slightly, and while not as thick as Steve's monster prick, it was still big enough that Bucky felt no shame in comparing their sizes. Certainly by the look on Steve's face he liked what he was seeing, and whispered something to Bucky's cock that sounded suspiciously like, _next time, baby_.

Gently, Steve coaxed Bucky onto his stomach, the pair manoeuvring their positions until Bucky was propped up on the pillows, his ass high in the air.

“Ready, sugar?” Steve purred, running his hand over one of Bucky's ass cheeks, and Bucky groaned with need, his ass leaking slick, while he felt Steve gently retract his hand, and he listened to the soft crinkle of his alpha unwrapping the condom, and putting it on.

“Yes, please, baby, I'm _so_ ready,” Bucky replied without hesitation, which caused Steve to chuckle warmly.

Steve shifted closer, pressing a finger against Bucky slick hole. Steve laughed softly when the digit slipped in with almost no resistance and he hastily added a second, scissoring gently as he prepared Bucky for what was to come.

 

Despite Bucky's varied attempts not to do so, in that moment he could not help but compare Steve to Brock, in particular how _different_ they were.

Brock had always demanded sex when _he'd_ wanted it; Bucky's consent was never explicitly necessary, and the omega's attempts to stop him usually led to a black eye or sprained wrist—if he was lucky. He'd spent years with Sam working out his issues of correlating sex with violence, and by the time Steve had entered the picture, he was mostly okay. It certainly helped that Steve was as gentle as a fawn, and was cautious about pushing Bucky for too much too soon, even stopping their proceedings a few times in recent memory when he got the impression that Bucky was not as ready for sex as he may have implied.

The wait, it seemed, had been a good move. Now Bucky felt no anxiety towards their actions, emboldened further by Steve's gentle, careful touch and sweet kisses. He spoke often, reminding Bucky of who was touching him, though Bucky couldn't decide if this was deliberate on Steve's part, or if it was just how he was during an intimate act.

 

At last Steve retracted his fingers, wiping them on the bedspread before he shifted again, gently blanketing Bucky with his larger, bulkier body. He kissed Bucky's shoulder softly, one hand sliding down the omega's back until it disappeared, Steve grabbing hold of his own erection, and he guided it to Bucky's waiting hole.

Bucky moaned as he felt it brush his entrance. Steve hesitated for a moment, but proceeded at the sound of Bucky's vocalization, letting out a groan of his own as he sank into Bucky's waiting heat.

Bucky groaned at the same moment that he heard Steve curse, and he laughed into the crook of his arm, while Steve continued to press gentle kisses to the back of his shoulder.

Steve drew out of him slowly, thrusting back in with a firm, sure movement that made Bucky groan again. His face was firmly buried in the crook of his arm as he pressed back into Steve, indicating without words that he needed Steve to go harder, faster.

Steve obliged, seeming to know just what Bucky needed in order to feel good. His growing knot bumped insistently against Bucky's rim, as whispered words passed between them, verifying that everything was still good between them.

 

“ _Feel good, sugar?”_

“ _Yeah, baby, keep going.”_

 

Bucky now felt as though he _needed_ Steve's knot, and the rubbing of it against him was slowly driving him to the very brink of madness.

“ _Steve!_ ” Bucky gasped out a few moments later as he pressed back against his alpha. “P-Please!”

“Please what, sugar?” Steve asked between ragged gasps of breath, and Bucky groaned more with frustration than sexual pleasure. He could practically _feel_ Steve's shit-eating grin, and had his arm not been occupied with keeping him steady against the battering ram pounding into his ass, Bucky would have _definitely_ reached around to smack him.

“Knot me, _please,_ ” Bucky ground out. “I need you knot so bad, don't make me beg—”

“I'll save begging for later, sugar,” Steve said simply before he reached under the pillows, and began to stroke Bucky's aching cock almost on the side of too roughly, while at the same moment the fingers of his opposite hand tensed at his hip while he drove himself deep into Bucky's ass, at last locking them into place.

Bucky cried out, his orgasm slamming into him like an eighteen-wheeler. Choked sounds slipped from his throat as he bucked into the pillows, painting them with his cum. Steve let out a distinct alpha snarl as his cock seemed to throb within the confines of Bucky's ass as he came as well, the condom seeming to strain slightly against the volume of cum being pumped into it, though it did not break.

Suddenly, and without any sort of warning that Bucky could discern, Steve's teeth—sharpened, _bonding_ teeth—closed around Bucky's bonding gland, breaking the skin like it was made of tissue paper.

Bucky let out a sharp gasp of pain, his body instinctively freezing under Steve's locked body, his voice scared away as he gazed up in shock at the bedroom wall in front of him, unable to fully process what was happening.

Tears sprang to Bucky's eyes.

Frightened tears—tears of confusion and fear.

What was Steve _doing_?

They hadn't even _talked_ about this!

Bucky let out an unintended, frightened whine, feverishly fighting back against the torrent of bad memories that wished to accompany such an act, fearful of the pain that he would inflict on himself for pulling away too soon. And yet, it didn't seem to make a difference—the emotional pain was more than enough. After _everything_ , why was Steve now breaking his promise to always put Bucky's consent first? He couldn't even find _words_ for what he was feeling, frozen in shocked, pained silence, it felt as though he'd suddenly been rendered mute and paralysed.

Steve was still growling when he at last let go of Bucky's gland, licking away the blood that he could reach. The omega's chest was stained with a sticky red, which had dotted the blue bedspread, reminding Bucky of what had just happened. Each swipe of the alpha's tongue stung unpleasantly, and already Bucky could feel that the mark had taken root. While it was a myth that a bonded pair could read one another's thoughts, there was a level of closeness that could never be accomplished outside of such an act. He could _feel_ Steve more acutely, feel the low thrum of instinct that eclipsed all rationality— _mate, bond, claim—_ Steve was clearly not in control of himself, and lost his will to his instinctual need to bite during sex, one which all alphas felt.

Bucky had been _claimed_.

Bucky shuddered, tears of shame streaking his cheeks for not remembering that particular part of an alpha's biology.

_But Steve should have known that he'd need to bite_ , Bucky thought woefully, even as Steve's growls shifted to a string of purrs, nuzzling the still-healing mark lovingly, which only drew another dry sob out of Bucky. Never in his life had he felt so utterly betrayed.

It was several long, painful minutes of listening to Steve growl and purr, his hands gripping Bucky in a possessive hold, as though he expected some other alpha to appear and steal Bucky away. Bucky lost any desire to fight, lying there weeping as Steve ever so slowly came down from the pheromone high that came with marking a mate.

 

“Buh-Bucky?” Steve said sluggishly almost a full twenty minutes later, around the same time that his knot began to deflate, and he was able to slip out of Bucky's battered hole, clearly trying to understand what had happened. “Buck, what— _oh, God_.”

“Get out.”

“Bucky—”

“ _Get out!_ ” Bucky screamed, whipping around as he flung his fist at Steve, blinded by hurt and anger, and the punch glanced off Steve's cheek, making him grunt in surprise more than pain. “Get out, get out, _get out! I can't believe I ever trusted you! Get out! Now!_ ”

Steve, white-face and visibly horrified, gathered up his clothes in a hasty, messy pile. He raced from the room without bothering to dress, perhaps knowing that Bucky would not allow him the courtesy of doing so.

Distantly, Bucky heard the jingle of Steve grabbing Bea's leash, followed by the distinct sound of the front door slamming shut.

The fight drained out of him as the house fell into silence.

Losing the battle with his anger, Bucky crumpled onto his bedspread, and wept.

 


	13. Aftershocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Guys, thank you _so_ much for all your comments on the last chapter. I was completely overwhelmed with the response and sincerely touched by how invested all of you are in this story. I hope that you guys enjoy this update, and the next one is scheduled for September 10th.

Chapter Thirteen – Aftershocks

 

In an awful, twisted sort of way, Bucky found himself deeply grateful that Sadie was at Becca's for the night.

He only came to this conclusion when he woke up the following morning, still sticky with blood and other unnameable fluids. In a zombie-like state, Bucky peeled himself off the bed, and moved to the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

And another cry.

Bucky hated how weak he felt—how weak _Steve_ had made him feel. He hated that it was someone he had foolishly trusted who did this to him. Even without Steve around, he could feel the dull throb of guilt that reverberated through their bond, and he knew that the emotion was not coming Bucky, but from _him._

Pink and clean, Bucky shook his head to ignore the invasive feeling while he slapped a gauze pad over his neck wound (he refused to think of it as a bonding mark). In a tank top and his boxers, Bucky shuffled to the kitchen in order to force something into his stomach.

 

~*~

 

**Bucky – 11:10AM**

_keep sade at your place as long as you can. I need to pull myself together before she gets back._

**Becca – 11:11AM**

_ooh, sexy fun night? ;););)_

**Bucky – 11:11AM**

_fun wouldn't be the word id use. I dont wanna talk about it rn. Just keep her as long as you can. I dont want her to find out yet_

**Becca – 11:12AM**

_what the FUCK did that ass do?_

**Becca – 11:20AM**

_bucky_

**Becca – 11:25AM**

_BUCKY. Don't you fucking ignore me._

**Becca – 11:30AM**

_BUCKY!!!_

**Bucky – 11:31AM**

_omg fine. He bit me, okay? And no, I didn't ask for it. And it took, so we know itll scar. I can't believe he'd do this, I really thought he was a good one._

 

Bucky watched his phone for a few minutes, but Becca never replied. With a sigh, he went back to his crackers and coffee, his stomach in no mood for real food, but he needed to eat something when he took his mood stabilizers so that he wouldn't get sick.

The scene from the night before ran in circles in Bucky's mind as he ate, but he couldn't fathom how Steve could've done this to him—to _them_. In one shot, he'd utterly destroyed everything that they'd ever had, and he couldn't understand _why_.

Twenty minutes after Bucky sent his text to Becca, he heard a familiar car screech to a halt outside, and he wondered vaguely if he was imagining the similarity. Becca didn't bust down his door three seconds later however, so he was on the cusp of actually believing that it was a coincidence when he heard an odd, loud howl sound from outside.

Bucky jumped up and hurried to the front of the house, where he cracked his door open in order to peer outside.

As Bucky had suspected, Becca's car was outside, but she was standing in front of Steve's house. She was wearing her steel-toed boots, while Steve was curled up on his stoop, hands cupping his groin while he moaned in pain.

Bucky felt caught between wanting to stand there for longer, and a deep desire to run and hide. He didn't want Steve to see him (he was farfrom ready to even _look_ at the alpha yet) but at the same time he didn't really want his sister to give the alpha a vasectomy with her feet, though privately Bucky thought he'd deserved it.

“You _fucking_ ass!” Becca shrieked, kicking Steve in the knee this time, and making Steve curse with pain, though concurrently he didn't really try to stop her. “I can't _believe_ I let you near my brother! Do you have _any_ idea what you've done to him? To Sadie? Do you even _care_?”

Becca kept kicking him in different places, but avoided his face and gut, like she wanted to hurt him, but not badly enough that he wouldn't recover. Bucky shut the door, and covertly pulled his phone back out in order to text two words to her— _down, girl._

He heard Becca's phone chirp from outside, followed by the sound of her snarling something at Steve, though it was too muffled for him to make out. A moment later she stomped over to Bucky's door, and he jumped out of the way, though not quickly enough, and Bucky grunted when the door slammed open, and into his face.

“ _Bucky!_ ” she squeaked, a hand coming up to cover her mouth, “oh, fuck, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?”

Bucky held up a hand for her to shut up, then motioned for her to follow him to his kitchen, where his abandoned breakfast sat. He could feel pain thrumming through him, though he couldn't tell if it was coming through the bond, or through his bloody nose.

Bucky pressed a cool, wet cloth to his face, mopping up the blood before he said stuffily, “first question—is my daughter sitting in your car?”

“What?” Becca replied, blinking in confusion before she seemed to understand what Bucky was asking, and she shook her head. “No, of course not. Seeing shit like that would confuse the hell out of her. No, my neighbours are watching her and Lola. They've got a pool, so the kids will be entertained until Sadie misses you.”

“Have you given this neighbour a full background check?”

“Oh, yeah,” Becca said, smirking a little. “Yeah, she was part of the KGB, assassin, bounty hunter, and her omega is a hell of a great archer...”

“ _Please_ tell me you're kidding,” Bucky said with a small groan as he sat down in front of his coffee, and motioned for Becca to serve herself. She did so, and sat next to him at the little table, taking small sips of her coffee as she regarded her older brother.

“So...” Becca began, her voice losing its teasing tone, and adopting something gentler, more caring. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“Before or after you gave me a concussion?” Bucky asked, pulling back the cloth, and found it to be spotted with blood, but not actively bleeding. He tossed the cloth aside, and sipped his coffee. Becca kept watching him, though she did not press him to say anything, but oddly enough, he _really_ wanted her to. Maybe it would be easier to explain everything if she was actively trying to wheedle the information out of him.

“It...fuck, Becks, it was supposed to be a perfect, wonderful night,” Bucky said at last, his voice breaking a little as he stared down into his coffee mug. “I made him my carbo _nada_ , and we had salad fresh from his garden, and then cheesecake, then he carried me to bed and...it was perfect, but when he...he... _you know_...well, he went all feral and _bit me_.”

Bucky's voice caught, and Becca laid a hand against his arm while he took a shaking breath, but he forced himself to continue before she could say anything.

“W-We were locked together, and h-he was just all...I don't know. He just kept growling and tending to the mark, and I could _feel_ that it took, and...and...” Bucky felt fresh tears drip down his cheeks, and he hastily tugged his arm away from Becca in order to try and pull himself together, wiping roughly at the tear tracks on his face. “We never even _talked_ about mating. When Steve talked about... _us_ , all that serious stuff he always said was far in the future. H-He always let me choose if we did anything, he always made sure I was comfortable, and then he goes and does... _this._ I don't understand what happened, or—or where I went wrong...”

“First of all, it's _not_ your fault, Bucky,” Becca said softly, reaching for him again, and this time Bucky let her embrace him. He rested his head on her shoulder, and she rubbed his back consolingly. “This is on _Steve_. All Sex Ed classes in high school include how alpha and omega pairs need to be extra careful to avoid an accidental bond, because alphas always need to bite during sex, _especially_ if it's with an omega. You know that there are mouth guards on the market that alphas can use to stop them from accidentally bonding to an unwilling omega, and it's _Steve's fault_ for not getting one. It's needed as much as a condom, for God's sake. I don't want you blaming yourself because Steve is a shitty alpha.”

“He's not—” Bucky began, but cut himself off with a curse as he pulled out of Becca's embrace in order to stare into his coffee cup miserably. “Who am I kidding? A good alpha would never have done this...”

“You think it's over?”

“Would you think I'm a dumbass if I said that I don't want it to be?” Bucky asked, lifting his eyes to stare at her, and Becca smiled sadly.

“No, baby,” she said, a term of endearment she only used when Bucky was upset. “I think you're just in love.”

Bucky sighed miserably, and dropped his gaze again.

 

~*~

 

A couple of hours later, Becca got a text informing her that Sadie was starting to get restless, and she left to go pick her niece up. Bucky used the opportunity to clean up and put on some real clothes, pulling himself together just enough that his daughter wouldn't worry.

By the time they got back, Sadie skipped into the house, her little pink backpack bouncing off her back, her eyes wide and bright as she stepped inside, and not a care in the world.

“Where's Steve, Daddy?” Sadie immediately asked, and Bucky smiled at her while he fought down a fresh wave of anguish that threatened to overtake him at the mention of the alpha's name.

“He had to go home for a bit, honey,” Bucky replied weakly. “To...work.”

“Oh.” She opened her mouth as though to say something else, but trailed off, her little brow pinched as she looked up at her father. Her gaze seemed to instinctively fall on Bucky's bruised nose, and the bandage on his neck. Her eyes went a little wide, and a familiar fear eclipsed her cheery disposition, making Bucky's heart clench with newfound guilt.

“Oh, honey,” Becca interjected hastily, “did you see your daddy's nosie? When I came over I—” she clucked her tongue, and made a punching motion with her right arm. “ _Clocked_ him right on the nose with the door by accident. Boy, he was not happy, let me tell you.”

“Oh, okay,” Sadie replied, her wide eyes still on Bucky's nose, though she had visibly relaxed after Becca's explanation. “Was it a _big_ owie?”

“Very big, but I'm okay, sweetheart,” Bucky replied, opening his arm to her, and she smiled as she scampered forward and into his embrace.

 

~*~

 

After Becca left (though not before telling him about five thousand times to text her if he needed _anything_ ) Bucky told Sadie that he needed to do a little bit of work in his office.

He set Sadie up in the living room with the TV on, a few colouring books, and a snack, and told her to come see him if she needed anything. Unlike other kids her age, Sadie never seemed to take that as an opening to come and chatter with him every few minutes, and appeared content to colour and watch Peppa Pig while her daddy headed off to do his own thing.

Bucky's insides squirmed with guilt as he padded to his office, where he let his pleasant mask finally fall. He hated the idea of letting his child be raised by TV because he was too fucked up to properly parent her, even if it was only for an hour or two. However, he knew that if he didn't take a break from pretending to be okay, he really would crack soon. More than anything else, he didn't want to upset his baby girl.

_I need to be better than this_ , Bucky thought miserably as he tugged his office's window open, letting in a pleasant summer breeze, and he sat down heavily in front of his desktop. Instead of working, he found himself mindlessly playing Solitaire, his eyes flitting to the outside occasionally.

From his vantage point, Bucky had a perfect view of Steve's backyard, and he could see the big, stupid alpha sitting out there with beer and a red-headed woman, who Bucky recognized from the initial move-in. Steve looked utterly miserable, and barely flinched when the redhead suddenly smacked the back of his head sharply.

“You are _so stupid!_ ” Bucky heard the woman say—loudly. “You spent _two months_ talking endlessly about how amazing this Bucky guy is then you go and blow it like _that_? What were you thinking?! Or were you thinking at all?! They make alpha mouth guards for a _reason,_ you human dumpster fire, you absolute dingus...you...you...you _idiot!”_

“I didn't think, okay?” Bucky heard Steve reply sharply, and the sound of his voice brought with it an undercurrent of both fear and longing, though Bucky couldn't decide which was the stronger emotion at the moment.

“ _That_ is obvious,” the woman retorted, her tone dry, and Bucky felt a jolt of irritation rush through the bond.

“I mean it, Nat,” Steve said, though the words escaped him almost as a growl. “You know my damn history, so don't give me that shit. I know I did wrong, believe me, I _know_ , and I can't even fix it—I'm stuck. I was with betas in high school, then Peg was alpha, then when I _tried_ to date after Peggy passed it was usually betas—alphas reminded me too much of her. The few omegas I did try to date...I never got that far with them. I've always been real in control of my emotions, I mean, I had to be, you know that, and so I figured that the urge to bite would be no big deal, and I'd be able to fight it...I was wrong. Real wrong.”

“Saying you were wrong doesn't fix this, Steve,” the woman countered, and again Bucky felt frustration ebb through the bond.

“I know it doesn't,” Steve replied with an annoyed huff. “I want to talk to Buck, see if he's okay, even though I can sort of feel that he's not, but he probably doesn't want to see me right now. I wanna give him time to cool off...and maybe make sure that his sister's gone...”

“First off—can you give me a good reason why he'd _want_ to see you?” Nat demanded. “You've been pretty tight-lipped about his past, but I got the impression that it wasn't amazing. Up to now you've been great with him, but then to do something as serious as this? Steve, you're _really_ gonna need to give him time on this. I get that you want to prostrate yourself at this omega's feet and beg for forgiveness, but that's sort of...not an option right now. As for his sister, she was well within her rights to kick your nuts into your throat. Hell, if I'd been here earlier, I probably would've helped. What you did wasn't some kind of little mistake, it was _way beyond_ that.”

“Why is talking to him not an option?” Steve demanded, though despite the lilt in his tone, he sounded desperate and anguished, like Nat had told him that he'd never paint again.

“Think about it, Steve,” Nat replied, her tone losing some of its acidity, and becoming gentler. “This would be a major betrayal for any omega, but especially one with his sort of background. You took a major, unalterable decision away from him, and now you guys will be connected for the rest of your lives. Can you imagine how that might feel? To not be able to _escape_ someone?”

Bucky wasn't certain he wanted to hear Steve's answer, and hastily snapped the window shut before he at last returned to work.

 

~*~

 

Over the next few days, Steve seemed to have something of an endless stream of people coming to yell at him over what had happened. A tall redheaded woman shouted herself hoarse after she disappeared inside the house, and when she chased Steve onto the back porch, her omega, whom Bucky remembered being called Tony, intercepted him, and began to shout at him as well.

That particular day reminded Bucky far too much of past arguments with Brock, despite the difference in the context of the arguments, and he hadn't been able listen to the barrage of _how stupid can you be?_ And _I'm gonna neuter you for this, Rogers._ The simple act of hearing the shouting made him feel decidedly sick to his stomach, and he popped on his headphones and crocheted, while Sadie had hidden herself in her room, as visibly affected as Bucky was by the sounds of the raised voices.

Throughout all of the visitors, the lectures and verbal attacks all seemed to be one-sided. Steve never really attempted to defend himself, and when he was called out on this—repeatedly—all he would ever say was, _I'm just sorry that it happened. There's nothing I can say or do to make it better._

_But why don't you try?_ Bucky wondered, his eyes shiny with tears as he lay curled up on the couch that lonely Saturday night, staring into space as his thoughts went over the past week in a painful rerun of events. Pistachio was curled up over his feet and purring loudly, like he was trying to make Bucky feel better.

It was all so confusing, and Bucky had no idea how to fix any of it, or if it even _should_ be fixed. He'd been down the road of abusive spouses before, and he had _no_ desire to go there again—he _refused_ to make himself a victim. He knew now that he was stronger than that.

A soft tapping on his front door broke Bucky out of his reverie. It was not gentle enough that it wasn't audible, but not loudly enough to wake Sadie.

With a soft groan, Bucky pulled himself off the couch and walked towards the door. Even without opening it, he could smell Steve on the other side of it, and through the bond he could feel the alpha's apprehension.

Bracing himself, Bucky pulled open the door.

“These aren't a bribe,” Steve immediately said as he held out the bouquet of tulips to Bucky, the same ones Steve had given him at the start of their first date. “I just...I wanted something to show you that I still care about you, but I don't expect anything from you, not after what I did.”

“Um...” Bucky gazed down at the flowers, trying to decide how to react. If he was being honest with himself, the sight of them made him want to cry, though he wasn't completely sure why. “Want to talk?”

“Yes, please.”

 

Bucky put the flowers in some water, and joined Steve on the front stoop with two mugs of hot coffee. Bea was sitting at attention at Steve's side, far less relaxed than Bucky could recall ever seeing her before.

Perhaps the last week had been rough on her, too.

“Bucky,” Steve began, making a point of sitting a little farther from him than he normally would have, as though he was trying to give the omega some space, and not inadvertently touch him without permission. “First off, I want to say I'm sorry— _really sorry_. I know that words won't take away what happened, and I won't force you to be with me if you don't want to be. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't want to be with me, either. I was stupid, and cocky, and I thought that I didn't need a mouth guard because I was never one to let my alpha instincts fuck me up before but...I didn't realize how strong they'd be with you. I like you so much, and I respect you, and I never wanted to take the choice of bonding away from you like that. I miss you, and I miss Sadie. I miss our nights together, and our days texting and flirting...I just...I want to be right again, but I don't want to...to...”

Steve's voice wavered, and died. When Bucky looked back up, he saw the alpha's face was wet with tears.

“You don't want to _what_ , exactly?” Bucky asked, his tone guarded, and Steve ducked his head in shame while he used his beefy forearm to dry his tears.

“I don't want to push you towards making you forgive me if you don't really want to,” Steve explained, his voice soft and hoarse. “That's why I didn't contact you for a whole week. I wanted to give you some space after what I did, and I didn't want to confuse Sadie by hanging around too much—that's also why I waited until later in the evening before I came by. I wanted to wait until after her bedtime so it wouldn't get complicated, you know, with her seeing me by accident.”

“You know my history, Steve,” Bucky said as he stared down into his coffee mug. “This isn't something we can really fix. If we lived farther apart, we might even feel a strain on the bond; I've heard of that happening with some...people. If you're being honest with me about everything—”

“—but I _am_ being honest with you!” Steve interrupted, his voice jumping up in volume from his panic, and Bucky stared at him, his eyebrows raised at the alpha's tone, until Steve ducked his head and mumbled, “sorry.”

“As I was saying,” Bucky continued, his voice adopting a bite of irritation, “ _if_ you're being honest with me, it does give the impression that you weren't trying to trap me in this relationship, knowing that it was an accident. That doesn't make it go away, though.”

“I know,” Steve replied, his voice much softer this time. “I'm still sorry though.”

“I know,” Bucky echoed, and hastily forced himself to stand up. He wanted to forgive Steve, but at the same time, he knew that he wasn't ready to. He had a _lot_ to think about. “I just...Steve, I need some time to think things over. I need you to steer clear of me and Sadie. Don't talk to her. Or me.”

“Okay,” Steve replied, his voice still soft, and his head bowed like a scolded puppy. His eyes were fixed on his lap, and even from this angle, Bucky could see that Steve was crying again, but he didn't think that Steve was forcing it, like some sort of manipulation; it seemed real.

“Goodnight, Steve,” Bucky said stiffly as he cast one more look at the alpha, then headed back inside.

Bucky shifted the lock into place in a pointed sort of way, indicating that he had no plans to change his mind and invite Steve in. He waited at the door, listening, and after a long pause he heard the soft scrape of ceramic against concrete as Steve set his coffee mug down, and then the soft footfalls and clicks of a dog's claws on cement as he walked away.

Bucky waited to see if he might come back.

When no tentative knock sounded again at Bucky's door, he heaved a soft, despondent sigh, and headed up to bed.

 

 


	14. Independence Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for September 24th. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: Panic Attack, Triggered Character, Dissociation, PTSD**

Chapter Fourteen – Independence Day

**Steve – 4:05PM**

_ Hey Buck, Sadie snuck over here with one of her friends and she was asking for me. I didn't want to upset her, but I also wanted to do what you asked. I talked to her for maybe two minutes, apologized for not being around as much, and told her I had to get back to work. _

**Steve – 4:06PM**

_ I didn't know what to do to make her leave without upsetting her, but I thought you should know. Hope you're doing ok. Happy 4 _ _ th _ _ of July. _

 

Bucky stared at the messages, his mouth twisted in annoyance, though for once in recent memory, not at Steve. 

He and Sadie had been at the town's Independence Day Fair all day, gorging on hot dogs and cotton candy, going on the kid-friendly rides, at least until Sadie had bumped into her friend Clarissa, and the pair had rushed off to play. Bucky had kept track of them along with Clarissa's mom, until Sadie said she wanted to go home and show Clarissa her new doll.

Bucky didn't have a problem letting her go, or so he said, giving Sadie the illusion of independence while he followed from a distance to make sure that she got there safely. He then hung around an ice cream truck to make sure no one tried to break in when his baby was in the house alone.

How she'd managed to slip over to Steve's when Bucky had been watching like a hawk was a mystery. It was made worse by the fact that he had no idea if such a thing warranted a punishment, given that he'd failed to tell Sadie in explicit detail that he and Steve weren't exactly as involved as they had been two weeks ago, and had merely told his daughter that they needed  _ apart time _ .

As a result, Bucky did the only thing that made sense to him—he texted Becca a screenshot of Steve's messages, followed by a number of panic-stricken emojis.

Bucky waited, tapping his foot, while watched a terrible cover band sing rock-country covers. All the men were at least forty-five by the look of it, with cowboy hats and pot bellies. They were halfway through  _ Born in the USA  _ when his phone buzzed, and he looked down to see Becca's response.

 

**Becca – 4:22PM**

_ Huh. _

**Bucky – 4:23PM**

_ Thats all you got? Huh? _

**Becca – 4:25PM**

_ I don't know him well enough to figure out if he's trying to fuck with you or not. What else should I say? _

**Bucky – 4:26PM**

_ Well I know him pretty well and idk either _

**Becca – 4:26PM**

_ I dunno what to tell you, bro. Maybe wait and see? _

**Bucky – 4:28PM**

_ thanks for nothing _

 

Grumbling, Bucky stashed away his phone as he stomped away from the festivities, and headed back towards home, still having no idea what he was going to say to Sadie when he got there.

 

~*~

 

Bucky found the two girls in the living room playing with Sadie's dolls, smiling and giggling. While it was good to see Sadie relaxed and happy, it still didn't take away from what she had done. While Bucky didn't want to be mad at her, and he understood why she did it, but regardless she still hadn't listened to him, which was something, as a parent, that he knew he needed to address.

“Hey, Sade,” Bucky said, smiling faintly as he eyed the two girls. “Hi, Clarissa.”

“Hi, Mithter Barthes,” Clarissa said, her usual lisp coming through very clearly that day. “Did you have a good time at the fair?”

“Pretty good,” he replied, smiling at the girl. “Uh, Sadie, can I talk to you for a minute?”

His daughter's smile immediately vanished, and she looked up at her father nervously, like she knew exactly why he wanted to talk to her.

“Okay,” she said in a whisper, hugging her doll to her chest, and followed Bucky away from her friend and towards her bedroom where she and Bucky could talk in private.

 

“Sadie,” Bucky said once they were alone, “what have I told you about bothering Steve?”

“To leave him alone,” she mumbled, bowing her head. “B-But I _miss_ him, Daddy! I know you and Steve are mad at each other right now, and you said you wanted _apart time_ , but _I_ _miss Steve!_ ”

“Baby, I know,” Bucky replied softly, reaching out to pet his daughter's hair as fat tears began to roll down her cheeks.  _ I miss him too,  _ he thought, though he didn't say that out loud. Instead, he added, “but when I say  _ apart time _ , I have a good reason for it, even if it doesn't seem fair. Steve did something bad, and it makes it hard for me to trust him. I don't want him to hurt you too, even by accident. Steve is better than Papa, a  _ lot  _ better, but he still did something really bad—”

“—but he's sorry,” Sadie interrupted, using her forearm to wipe away her tears roughly. “I h-heard him when he came to visit you, Daddy. He said he was sorry a million times. Why won't you forgive him?”

“It's complicated, honey,” Bucky said gently, but the explanation did not placate her like he'd hoped, and instead she let out a loud sob.

“It's n-not complicated!” she wailed, “grown-ups only  _ think  _ it is! Steve said sorry, now you have to say sorry too!”

“Sadie, please,” Bucky said, too lashed by her words to feel anger, and instead reached for his daughter, and pulled her into a hug, while she cried into his shoulder.

 

~*~

 

Bucky called Clarissa's mom, Judy, when it became apparent that Sadie was no longer in the right mood to hang out with her friend. Judy came to pick her daughter up without protest, while Bucky offered a few words of apology to the woman.

“Kids have fits, it's no big deal,” Judy replied, smiling, and Bucky chuckled warmly in agreement.

“Ain't that the truth.”

“Give Thadie a hug, okay, Mithter Barthes?” Clarissa said as they left. “She mithes Thteve.”

“I will, Clarissa, I promise,” Bucky replied as he forced a weak smile in response to the girl's words, and waved as he watched the little girl turn, hand in hand with her mother, and they walked down the street towards home.

 

Bucky shut the door with a little sigh, at last allowing his smile to fall. Sadie was still in her room sulking, but he knew she'd come out when she smelled food.

Unwilling to let their argument spoil Bucky's Fourth of July, he headed to the kitchen and began to pull out his homemade burgers from the fridge, along with all the necessary condiments and the buns, and left everything on the counter while he headed outside to start up the grill.

Even at a distance, Bucky caught sight of Steve puttering around inside his house. With the drapes open, Bucky could see that the alpha was pacing restlessly, but even the image of him visibly agonizing over their parting did little to soften his heart towards the alpha. It still hurt too much to think of him.

Concurrently, Bucky wasn't surprised that Steve wasn't sitting out in the sunshine today; the sign the alpha had posted on his front lawn had been evidence of that— _ Home of a Veteran; Please Be Respectful With Your Fireworks. _

Given that this was Albany, that hadn't really stopped people. There had been illegal fireworks going off from the surrounding houses for days, mostly from the domiciles that housed teenage boys. Though Bucky was still  _ pissed  _ at Steve, he truly did hope he was doing okay regardless—no vet deserved to be triggered, and especially not on Independence Day. 

Bucky had known this when he'd moved, of course—it seemed logical that the state capital would be ridiculous on the major fireworks holidays. At the same time, he wanted to be able to enjoy fireworks with his daughter without freaking out, and had spent the last few years working tirelessly with Sam in order to get to that point. While he still wasn't one hundred percent, Bucky was proud to say that he no longer completely fell apart when the fireworks started, which was progress, at least.

“—don't know what you're doing all the way out here, buddy,” Bucky heard Steve suddenly say, and Bucky jolted up, his finger releasing the gas valve on his barbecue with a sharp click without it igniting, in particular when he saw Steve walking onto his back deck with someone he recognized immediately. 

_ What the hell is my therapist doing over there with Steve? _

Bucky hurried back inside before they spotted him, and threw his kitchen window open so that he could eavesdrop more easily. 

“I told you, Steve, I'm just checkin' in on the birthday boy,” Sam said pleasantly, which caused Steve to grunt in clear disbelief. “I haven't seen you since you got out here, and when a certain patient of mine started telling me about this alpha he was seeing named Steve, well...”

“I'm gonna stop you right there,” Steve interjected. “You know damn well that you're seriously toeing the line on patient confidentiality right now, and I won't let you break Bucky's trust.”

“I'm not telling you anything,” Sam said, a note of hurt in his voice, like he was offended that Steve would even imply such a thing. “But after the kerfuffle you caused, I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing, that's all.”

“Who told you?”

“Natasha,” Sam replied easily. “Boy, is she mad at you.”

“Yeah, her and everyone else.”

“Well, can you blame them?”

“No, but it still sucks,” Steve replied, and as Bucky continued to listen in, he quietly went about preparing supper inside using his cast-iron grill pan instead of the barbecue outside. He heard to a soft shuffle, like Steve had flopped into his lawn chair. “I never wanted this to happen, you know, and I know it's my own fault. I was arrogant, I was stupid, I was...everything I shouldn't be. I know better than this, I know I do. But I still don't have a  _ clue  _ why I did it.”

“Unfortunately, you're not the first or the last alpha to make that mistake,” Sam said, and Bucky heard a soft hiss, like Sam was opening a drink can. “Most of the time, it's no big deal. The mark doesn't take, the omega puts on a band-aid, and that's it.”

“But this one took,” Steve filled in, “and I have no idea how to make it up to him, or fix it, or anything.”

“It's gonna take time, Steve,” Sam said, his voice softening, so much so that Bucky had to lean close to the window in order to hear him properly. “You gotta be prepared for the idea that he might not  _ want _ to forgive you. I know Bucky pretty well, and I have a pretty good idea how he might react to something like this, even though he hasn't come to see me about it yet. Trying to force yourself back into his life isn't the way to get him back.”

“I haven't been doing that, though,” Steve protested, his voice gaining a croaky quality that made Bucky's stomach twist with unease. “I've been giving him his space. I only texted him today because his daughter came by, and wanted to see me. I sent her on her way as fast as I could, and I told Bucky what happened. Aside from our talk two weeks ago, I haven't even  _ looked _ at him.”

“That might be how it is for the rest of your lives going forward,” Sam said, his voice eerily calm. Bucky felt an odd sensation of agonizing emotional pain come at him both from the bond, and from his own heart as Sam asked, “what would you do then?”

“I'd have to move, as far away as I can get,” Steve said, a certainty in his voice that made Bucky lean even closer to the window sill. “Seeing him every day, knowing how much I care about him, and how I can't—how I  _ don't  _ deserve him after what I did...it would hurt too much to see him. I'd have to go. Not just for Bucky, but Sadie too. I know that this...this separation between me and her dad has been confusing for her. It wouldn't be fair to hang around after what I did.”

 

Bucky snapped the window shut, and hastily returned to preparing supper. The pan was so hot he used a tea towel to adjust it on the burner, and the burgers hit the iron with a loud, satisfying hiss. 

Even so, Bucky could not help but think on what Steve had said. 

_ Steve was talking to his friend, which means that maybe he wasn't lying,  _ Bucky thought as he watched the meat cook, not quite certain how he felt about his therapist and boyfriend— _ ex-boyfriend,  _ he reminded himself—being friends.

Or, rather, Sam specifically not telling him that he knew Steve. Didn't that make Bucky, as his patient, a conflict of interest, or something? 

_ I might have to ask Becca what she thinks...this is all a bit much for me, _ Bucky mused as he flipped the burger over, making it hiss again. 

As predicted, Sadie shuffled to the kitchen, having smelt the food. Without being asked, she began to carefully tote the condiments and burger buns from the kitchen counter to the table. She sat down in her usual seat when she'd finished, still quiet as a mouse while she watched her father cook. 

“Your face is scrunchy, Daddy,” she said at last. “Why are you sad?”

“I'm not sad, baby,” Bucky replied, turning to her to offer her a small smile. “Just thinking.”

“I miss Steve,” she said in response, and Bucky heaved a soft sigh. “When will he come over again?”

“I don't know, baby.”

 

~*~

 

Though it seemed like Sadie hadn't particularly cared for Bucky's response, she did not protest, not even when Bucky brought out the tossed salad for them to have with their burgers, which had been made with her least favourite vegetable—spinach. Sadie ate in silence, topping her burger with lots of lettuce and mayonnaise, and even munched on her salad without complaint, though her eyes often strayed to their backyard, and Steve's property beyond. 

“Hey, Sade,” Bucky began after they'd finished eating. She was still sitting at the table, her legs swinging, and her eyes on Steve's property line. Bucky was in the middle of loading the dishwasher, though didn't fault his daughter for not helping this time—she'd been in a real mood all day, and it wouldn't help to make her grumpier by forcing her to help with the clean-up. “I was thinking...after I'm all done here, why don't we go find the ice cream man who's been trolling our block all day, then go into the back and watch the fireworks? I need someone real brave with me so that I don't get scared by 'em. Think you're up to it?”

“I want a sundae, Daddy!” she cried, apparently forgetting her anger at her father as she jumped off her chair and hurried forward. “And I promise I'll hold your hand and make you breathe so you don't get scared, and then you can see all the pretty colours!”

“Okay,” Bucky agreed with a warm laugh as he straightened up. “But you gotta hold on real tight to your sundae, all right, honey? We're not going back if you drop it.”

“I promise, Daddy!” she chirped, and with another laugh, he grabbed his wallet before the pair headed out the door.

 

~*~

 

They did, in fact, go back.

Sadie was much more careful with her second sundae, hugging it close to her chest and smearing her T-shirt with hot fudge. Bucky had insisted that she get changed when they got home, then transported their sundaes and a blanket to the backyard over the course of two trips. 

Bucky spread the chequered blanket out awkwardly, though Sadie helped smooth it out before they both sat down and dug into their treats. However, Bucky had to pause early into his monstrosity of hot fudge and peanuts in order to go inside and get a damp towel for Sadie, who was already sticky with chocolate and caramel. 

Once they were settled again, the sky already turning a deep purple, Sadie, unfortunately, brought up a subject that Bucky had known was coming, but he was already dreading. He was so  _ sick  _ of talking about the one person he didn't want to talk about.

“Daddy, do you think Steve likes fireworks?”

Bucky crammed a mouthful of ice cream into his mouth in order to stave off answering, and to stop himself from snapping at his daughter for her persistence with the subject of Steve all damn day. He knew that it wasn't right to be mad at her about it, just because  _ he  _ didn't want to talk about him, and the mouthful gave him both time to calm down—and a healthy dose of brain freeze.

“I don't think he's really a fan of fireworks, no,” Bucky replied once he'd recovered, and even managed to offer Sadie a small smile. “He's like me, honey. He was in the army, so sometimes his brain gets scared by the noises that fireworks make.”

“You should hug Steve, Daddy,” Sadie said sweetly while she ate another spoonful of her ice cream. “That way, he won't be so scared.”

Bucky hummed in a non-committal way, which seemed to placate his daughter, at least for the moment.  Bucky did his best to steer the conversation away from Steve by asking Sadie what she wanted to do tomorrow, and cheerily she alternated between wanting to go hiking, and wanting to go swimming. She monologued the pros and cons of both as they sat there, while Bucky watched the sky slowly darken above them.

The conversation successfully took them into full dark, and within moments, the first whistle of a firework signalled the start of the display. Sadie, perhaps sensing his apprehension, slotted herself into Bucky's side, and took his hand, forcing him to rest the empty sundae cup between his knees. He breathed slowly and watched the skies, though his preparation did not help nearly as much as he would have liked, and he still jumped a little when the first firework went off, showering the sky in blue stars.

After the first one, it was somewhat easier to predict when the next ones would come, and though he still jumped occasionally, the warm weight of his daughter at his side helped him to stay present and not fall into bad memories. 

 

For roughly half an hour, the sky was alight with fireworks in red, white and blue. Bucky even managed to enjoy the second half of the display, despite the unsettlingly familiar rapid-fire of the explosions. Somehow, impossibly, he managed to  _ not  _ think about gunfire when his daughter was cuddling up with him so sweetly.

At the end, amidst cheerful cries and applause from the neighbours on the block who had also enjoyed the fireworks, Bucky gathered up the blanket, while Sadie picked up the empty cups from their sundaes, and they headed back inside.

Immediately, Bucky heard a frantic scratching against his front door, paired with a high whine that was clearly the sound of a distressed dog. 

The sound surprised Bucky so much that he nearly dropped the blanket, and having a feeling he knew what he'd find when he opened the door, he dumped the blanket on the table, and raced to the front of the house.

As he'd suspected, Bea stood there without Steve. Her ears were flattened against her head, and she was panting harshly. Upon seeing Bucky, she raced down the walkway, towards Steve's house, then paused and looked back. When Bucky didn't move, she barked, raced up to him again, and began to paw at his legs, as though she was trying to urge him to move. 

“Why is Bea sad?” Sadie asked, and when Bucky turned away (inciting another bark from Bea) he saw Sadie worrying her lip, eyes wide with concern. 

“I don't know,” Bucky replied, even when he had a feeling he knew exactly what was up—he was certain that Steve was having an episode, and Bea had been unable to snap him out of it. 

“Sadie, I need you to stay here,” Bucky said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “I'm going to check on Steve, and I'm gonna call Auntie Becca, and have her come watch you. You're gonna stay here, and  _ do not  _ open the door for anyone but your aunt, all right? I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“But Daddy—!” Sadie began to protest, but a hard look from her father caused her mouth to snap shut, and she mumbled, “okay.”

“ _ Stay _ ,” Bucky repeated. “Don't do  _ anything  _ until your aunt gets here.”

Sadie nodded, looking particularly distraught as Bucky stepped out and locked the door behind him. He yanked his phone out of his pocket as he moved, and thanked the heavens that at least this was Lola's weekend with her dad, and so Becca would be free to come over without having to worry about her own child.

 

**Bucky – 10:15PM**

_ 911 – I gotta run out. Sadie's alone, can't talk rn pls come watch her _

**Becca – 10:16PM**

_ Got it. On my way. 5 minutes tops, I'm at the fair. I'll speed if I gotta. _

 

Relieved at the hasty response and the stroke of luck that she seemed to be nearby, Bucky hastened to follow Bea, who led Bucky to the front of Steve's house, but when he tried the door, he found it to be locked.

Cursing, he began to look for a rock or something to break a window with, when Bea began to nudge an address rock in Steve's front garden. Bucky lifted it up curiously, and to his relief, he found a spare key hidden beneath it.

Bucky unlocked the door, and Bea led him deeper into the house, past the kitchen, and to the basement door. It was shut, but even through the heavy wood, he could hear the snuffling sounds of someone beyond it, though they were too far for Bucky to make out the exact words.

Bucky let himself in and padded down the steps, uncertain what he might find beyond it.

The basement was finished, dimly lit by old-fashioned lamps with off-white carpeting over the concrete floor. It seemed to be some sort of game room, with pool and air-hockey tables, a mini-fridge, and a few old, battered couches scattered around the space. 

In the centre of the carpet was Steve, curled up in a foetal position, crying and wheezing.

There was blood dripping down Steve's chin, and more crusted on his palms. To Bucky, the injuries seemed to be caused by Steve biting his lip and clenching his fists so tightly that they drew blood, and his light blue T-shirt was soaked by both sweat stains and tears. There were noise-cancelling headphones over his ears, and a number of inhalers and pill bottles were scattered next to him, though Bucky had a feeling that these were caused by Bea bringing her charge various items in an attempt to help, rather than some sort of suicide attempt, in particular given the way Steve was acting—he did not have any overdose symptoms that Bucky could discern, and only bore the appearance of someone in the throes of a dissociative episode. 

“Steve?” Bucky ventured, and the alpha let out a soft whine in response. To Bucky, this was a positive sign—it told him that though Steve was riding out a full-blown episode, he wasn't fully dissociating, which meant that he was less likely to suddenly snap and react violently. 

Bucky crouched in front of him, and Steve shivered, but didn't move. From his new vantage point, Bucky could see that the noise-cancelling headphones had been slightly dislodged, which could account for why Steve was having an episode in the first place. Bucky couldn't imagine any other scenario where through his basement and the headphones, Steve would have been able to hear the fireworks outside.

“Steve, baby, are you with me?” Bucky asked, the pet name giving Bucky a funny sort of jolt in his stomach, given how uncertain things still were between them. At the same time however, he could see Steve relaxing incrementally, though Bucky had no clue if it was his presence, voice, scent, or some combination of the three that was calming Steve down.

“B-B-Bucky...” Steve whispered, still gasping for breath, but he didn't move to grab his inhaler off the floor. He seemed frozen, and Bucky's heart ached for him.

Hastily, he picked up the inhaler for Steve. 

Having used the thing once or twice in his life when his annual cold unexpectedly turned into a case of bronchitis, he at least knew how to use it. Bucky knew to give the blue inhaler a good shake, then he uncapped it and held the spout to Steve's mouth. Obediently, Steve closed his lips around the inhaler as Bucky pressed down, and Steve breathed in hard, taking the medicine to his lungs. 

Bucky pulled it back, and watched as Steve's breathing slowly calmed, though still he did not move from his position on the floor. 

His stomach turning over with a confusing torrent of thoughts, Bucky inched closer. Though he was not really worried for his own safety, being close to Steve still felt confusing. 

Bucky didn't like being near Steve and feeling this way, and he ached for the time before everything went so badly. Almost desperately, Bucky wished that there was a way for him to turn back time so that none of this had ever happened. 

“Steve?” Bucky asked again, and Steve whimpered. Bucky held out his hand, hesitating for a moment, knowing how stupid and possibly dangerous such an act could be, before his fingers threaded through the silky strands of Steve's hair.

Steve relaxed further. He let out a sigh, and pressed his head into Bucky's hand, like a cat demanding attention.

Bucky couldn't help but smile a little, his shoulders slumping with relief. He inched a little closer, and Steve seemed to take this as an invitation as he too shifted forward until his head was timidly resting in Bucky's lap. 

Bucky tensed involuntarily, but Steve did not appear to notice. Bucky eased down onto the floor in order to make himself more comfortable, which seemed to cause Steve to relax a little more as Bucky took in the minute details of his physical condition. 

Steve was trembling, his breath was escaping him in shaky puffs, and his skin was a pasty white. It was clear to Bucky that Steve wasn't faking anything—his fear was palpable. Beyond the physicality of it, Bucky could feel it through the bond—Steve's present state of mind was like a sailor caught in a hurricane, so all-encompassing that it was clear to Bucky that Steve was only vaguely aware that Bucky was even there, and seemed to only recognize the omega on a baser, instinctual level, which appeared to be the only reason Steve had let him so close at all.

_ I gotta get his meds into him _ , Bucky thought as he sat there, feeling very much like a person with a cat in their lap, realizing that his mobility was somewhat limited—he didn't want to upset Steve by getting up, at least not until he'd come back to himself. Bea was sitting by them obediently, visibly calmer than she had been earlier, but still attentive, as though she was ready to do anything that Steve needed at a moment's notice.

“Okay, um...” Bucky trailed off as he reached for one of Steve's bottles of pills, and gazed at the one he'd selected, recognizing the little orange tablets as Seroquel, which Bucky had briefly used as a sleep aid. He consulted the label to be sure, and relaxed a little as he spotted,  _ Take one tablet as needed, for Anxiety and Insomnia. _

“Thank you, Dr Banner,” Bucky muttered as he stared at the label, using his thumb to shift the cap in order to open it, a complicated thing to do with one arm, which was compounded when he realized that he had nothing for Steve to wash it down with. In Steve's current state, Bucky seriously doubted that he'd be able to dry-swallow it.

“Shit, um...” he glanced at the dog, wondering just how far her training went. His own anxiety and PTSD had never been bad enough to warrant needing a service dog, and he had no idea how their commands worked, but hell, he had to try. “Bea, go to the fridge and...uh....get a...bottle.”

Bucky watched in quiet amazement as Bea's ears seemed to perk up, and without hesitation she turned and hurried back up the stairs. At the top, she bit down on a rope that was hanging from the door handle and gave it a tug, causing it to snick open, and she disappeared upstairs.

Unfortunately when she returned, it wasn't exactly with the item that Bucky had asked for.

“Bea, sweetie?” Bucky said, almost like he was talking to a child, “that's a  _ turnip _ .” 

Bea whined in response, and Bucky heaved a sigh. 

_ One more try, _ Bucky reasoned,  _ then if it doesn't work, I'll go up and get it myself. _ “Bea, get water.”

Bea rushed upstairs again, quicker to obey this time, like she actually knew what she was looking for. 

When she came back down, amazingly, Bea had a bottle of water clutched between her teeth, and she dropped it proudly in front of Bucky.

“Good girl, thanks,” Bucky praised, making Bea wag her tail happily while he hastily gathered the water up. After fumbling with both the meds and the sealed bottle, he got both open, and rested the open bottle nearby while he pressed a single pill to Steve's bottom lip. “Open up, baby, you gotta take your medicine.”

Steve opened his mouth like an obedient toddler following the orders of a parent. Bucky placed the pill on Steve's tongue, and carefully poured a trickle of water past the alpha's lips, while being cautious to not inadvertently choke him. When Bucky said, “swallow,” Steve did so, and Bucky checked his mouth again to ensure that the pill was gone.

Relieved, Bucky sealed both the medicine bottle and the water bottle, then eased back as he waited for Steve to come back to himself. His fingers carded through Steve's hair as the alpha remained still, save for the occasional tremor, but no longer was Bucky as actively worried about him. Bucky had done all that he could, and given that the fireworks had mostly petered out, he knew it was only a matter of time before Steve finally recovered from this latest episode.

According to Bucky's phone, Steve remained in his near-catatonic state for over an hour. Bucky's legs were stiff from lack of movement, and he  _ really  _ had to pee, but so too was he unwilling to move and risk upsetting Steve in his fragile state. 

As he sat there, Bucky could not help but idly wonder if Steve's reaction to the fireworks had been exacerbated by their fallout, though Bucky could not make up his mind one way or the other on the validity of such a thing—he didn't want to feel guilty about this. 

Instead, he banished the thought, and tried to focus his attention on helping Steve find himself again—he could worry about everything later.

 

~*~

 

“Buh-Bucky?”

Steve's voice, sluggish and confused, sent a tremor through Bucky. Its tone was so familiar to  _ that night _ , and for a moment Bucky's vision seemed to waver, and he inhaled sharply.

Bucky waited for Steve to sit up before he leapt to his feet and backed away. Steve didn't move, and instead watched Bucky like a deer might watch a hunter—wary, but hopeful that this encounter would not end painfully. 

“This...” Bucky trailed off, his voice shaking far too much to form words. He took several deep breaths, and tried again. “This doesn't change anything, Steve. I had to...I had to help you, but this doesn't mean we're together again or anything.”

“I understand,” Steve said, his voice soft and devoid of his usual casual confidence. He dropped his gaze, and stared at his knees while he mumbled, “thank you for helping me, and...I'm sorry.”

Bucky didn't wait, afraid of what he might do if he stayed any longer. He turned, running up the stairs, and he left Steve behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A note on Bea's actions and commands: I can confirm that it's possible for an untrained dog to go to someone else's house, and know how to scratch on a door like that. My family friend's dog used to escape all the time, and then travel all the way across town to come to our house to play with my dog. As for the other commands, with my research and asking around, I have been informed that it is indeed plausible to train a dog with these sorts of commands.


	15. Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for October 8th. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: Anxiety, Manipulation, Referenced Abuse**

Chapter Fifteen – Let Go

 

Bucky puffed out his cheeks, and stared up at the redbrick building reluctantly. He drummed his fingers on his thigh, his leg bouncing, but despite his varied attempts to think of an excuse to not go up, he knew without even looking to his car's passenger seat that Becca was _not_ buying it.

“You ready to do this?” Becca asked, and Bucky laughed.

“Hell no,” Bucky replied as he smirked wryly at Becca, “but I have to...right?”

“Yeah, you do,” Becca said, and reached out to touch his arm consolingly. “After what you told me, you definitely need to let this therapist go, and I'll be here to help you make sure it's done. I don't want him convincing you that what he did was anywhere in the realm of okay.”

Bucky nodded, muttering a soft thank-you to his sister, not just for taking the drive to the city with him, but for being willing to back him up if Sam at any point started to bullshit him. He hated to do it, but a therapist he couldn't trust wasn't exactly conductive to any sort of healing.

“I dunno how I'm gonna find anyone as good as him, though,” Bucky muttered as they exited the car. “Sam was the only therapist I could find that was willing to take me on as an omega vet.”

“I talked to my neighbours for you, they said pretty much up-front that they are friends with Steve and Sam, but they don't agree with what Sam did either. They gave me a couple names for you to check out if you want.”

“But how do we know that they're not trying to manipulate us either?” Bucky asked dubiously, and Becca smiled at him sadly.

“I think your paranoia is fair, but I did check out the therapists they suggested, and one of them, Steven Strange, he seems like a real no-bullshit guy. He doesn't strike me as the type to try and manipulate you on Steve's behalf, plus some of the bitchier comments on his _Rate My Therapist_ page said that he was _mean_.”

“Why the hell would I want a mean therapist?” Bucky demanded, almost laughing, and Becca smiled at him.

“Well from the tone of those reviews, it sounded to me more like he wasn't willing to sugarcoat anything. Not everyone enjoys hearing the truth in a brutally honest way,” Becca explained, shrugging a little as though to say, _it's up to you_. “But he's got an office in the city, and also works via _BetterTherapy,_ you know, that online counselling app? So you wouldn't have to look for a sitter for Sadie every couple of weeks if you didn't want to drive three hours each way every single time.”

“If I picked him, I'd probably want to drive out the first couple of times at the very least,” Bucky admitted. “There's some vibe-y stuff you just can't feel through a screen. What's his designation, anyway?”

“Beta.”

“Oh, good.” Bucky smiled. Betas were always easier to deal with.

“But first...” Becca began, and motioned towards the doors of the car, making Bucky wince.

“Let's go,” Bucky said by way of response, and his sister nodded as the pair exited the vehicle.

Bucky's heart thrummed in his chest as he locked the car. As they began to make their way towards the building, a million nervous thoughts began to race through Bucky's head.

_What if Sam denies what he did?_

_What if Sam blames me for it?_

_What if Sam won't let me leave?_

Logically, Bucky was fairly certain (or at least hopeful) that Sam was a pretty honest guy. Most likely, he would own up to his mistake. Unfortunately, Bucky's time with Brock had utterly ruined his ability to trust people, evidenced by the disaster his and Steve's relationship had become.

Bucky and Becca moved up the staircase at a steady pace, but to Bucky it seemed to take forever.

When they did at last make it to Sam's floor, Becca took Bucky's hand, as though she sensed his anxiety beginning to mount. Bucky offered her a weak smile, which she returned, and as they turned down the hall towards Sam's office, they found the man standing and waiting for them with his arms crossed and a small but sad smile on his face.

“Don't worry, Buck, I know why you're here,” Sam said calmly, his tone casual and friendly, but without any hint towards what he may be thinking. The reassuring tone helped Bucky to feel a bit more at ease, but at the same moment Becca's hand tensed in his, as though to remind him to not let his guard down too much. “Would you guys like to join me in my office?”

“All right,” Bucky replied, wincing a little, not quite sure what to expect as he and Becca followed Sam into his office, but unlike his usual visits, there was no coffee, no doughnuts, and no smiles.

“I'd like to apologize, Bucky, for my behaviour,” Sam said after he shut the door behind them, then moved to lean against his desk as he gazed at the siblings. His voice had dropped its usual friendly tone, and he sounded more serious than Bucky had ever heard him before. “I could tell you my reasons of how I was just thinking about Steve, and how I was concerned for you both. But...I feel that it would come across as shallow, or empty, however you wanna phrase it. As your therapist should have known better than to even _say_ that you were my patient, and you have every right to drop me as your therapist. If you want to take legal action, I won't hold it against you; you would have every right to do something like that after what I did. Also, I'd like you to know that this was the first—and _last—_ time that I've ever betrayed a patient's trust before. It doesn't matter that I wasn't thinking, and it doesn't matter that I was trying to help someone else in the process. I still did something unforgivable, and I really am sorry.”

Bucky exchanged a look with Becca, who eyed him with a mental shrug. Bucky was glad that Sam was owning up to his massive mistake, and he was relieved that Sam wasn't trying to justify it, while explaining why he did it at all. At the same time, Bucky felt oddly relieved that Sam hadn't tried to convince him to stay on as his patient. He'd heard the _I'm sorry, I can change_ speech from Brock a thousand times, and those sorts of statements were always harder for Bucky to stomach.

“Becca suggested I try out Dr Strange,” Bucky said instead, not quite sure what else he _could_ say, and definitely not _I forgive you_. Sam nodded his head in understanding.

“He's a good therapist, but he won't sugarcoat anything for your benefit,” Sam said with a note of warning to his voice, almost mirroring what Becca had said in the car. “So keep that in mind if you decide to go with him. I have a few other names I can dig up if you need another option though.”

“I think I'll go with Becca's suggestion, thanks,” Bucky said, a stiff edge to his voice, and Sam nodded in understanding.

“Then I wish you all the best, Bucky, and I'm sorry that I broke your trust—I mean it.”

Bucky inclined his head in a stiff nod, then he and Becca turned, and left Sam Wilson's office for the last time.

 

~*~

 

The pair of siblings went to a deli in Brooklyn for lunch, and over plates of towering pastrami sandwiches and soft drinks, they forced their conversation away from Bucky's search for a new therapist and to something more pleasant.

“So,” Becca said thickly around a mouthful of smoked meat, “you got Sadie's birthday all organized?”

“Yep,” Bucky replied, popping the word before he sipped his diet coke, and added, “can't believe my baby is gonna be six, but I got everything she wanted—pink and purple decorations, bug-decorated plates, napkins, and hats, bug-themed games, and a _huge_ bumblebee honey cake.”

“Did you bake it?”

“Nah, ordered. Her request was so finicky that I thought it'd be safer than risk me ending up on an episode of _Nailed It._ And we're doing terrible suburban pizza for food,” Bucky continued, and snorted when Becca wrinkled her nose at Bucky's planned food options. “Do you want to come help? There's gonna be about fifteen little girls to corral this weekend, so it's gonna be totally crazy.”

“Since Lola was invited, sure,” Becca replied, smiling a little. “Any word from Brock?”

“The last time he remembered her birthday was about three years ago, so I doubt it,” Bucky said with a small grimace. “She used to ask why her Papa never sent her a card, but now I think she's kind of...over it, I guess? I talk to her about it, so she doesn't feel like it's a banned subject or anything, but I get the impression that she's not really bothered by it. Honestly, she's more attached to Steve than she ever was to Brock; she snuck over to Steve's again, this time with an invitation to her party, and she came back _in tears_ because Steve gave her a kind of vague answer.”

“What does _kind of vague answer_ mean?” Becca asked curiously, and Bucky grimaced a little, staving off answering by taking another bite of his sandwich, but Becca did not change subjects, and merely waited for him to continue.

“I checked with him after because obviously I went into full Papa Bear mode after seeing my baby so upset, and he told me that he was planning to check with me first before he said yes or no—he said...well, he said that he didn't want me to feel uncomfortable with him being there if I wasn't up for it.”

“You know, I never thought I'd say this, but that was actually really considerate of him,” Becca said thoughtfully, picking apart a slice of pastrami with her fingers as she talked. “But how do _you_ feel about everything that's been going on?”

“Kinda weird, actually,” Bucky admitted, laughing a little. “I mean, the last few times I've seen him or bumped into him, like at the park or farmer's market or whatever, I haven't wanted to cry like a baby.”

“That's progress,” Becca agreed before she took another bite of her sandwich. “As long as you don't get back together with him, I'm cool with it.”

“Who said I don't want to get back together with him?” Bucky demanded, almost too quickly, and Becca raised an eyebrow at him.

“You, for one,” Becca pointed out, her eyebrows now so high that they ran the risk of disappearing behind her bangs. “I thought you never wanted to see him again? Plus, he betrayed your trust in a really big and permanent way. Personally, I dunno if you can trust the guy.”

“I'm not trying to erase or defend what he did,” Bucky said, frowning a little. “But I know he's trying to do right by me, which Brock never did. Brock just pushed and pushed until I caved and went back to him. Steve...he's keeping his distance. He knows that us seeing each other face-to-face is hard on me, so if something comes up, like when Sade snuck over to see him a few weeks ago, or the thing with the birthday invite, he sent me a simple text, and didn't mention the idea of _us_ at all. Maybe I'm being a total idiot, but I can respect him for that. I feel like...like...well, I know he wants me back. It's like a big neon sign, but he's not pushing. In a weird way, it's sort of comforting.”

“So does that mean you wanna get back together with him?” she asked, almost cautiously, and Bucky let out a short laugh.

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

 

~*~

 

They got back to Albany in the early evening, and Bucky stopped to pick Sadie up from Becca's neighbours before he headed home. By now, he was well-aware that they were friends with Steve, having recognized them from Steve's initial move-in, though he had not mentioned it to Becca yet. Becca's penchant for overbearing protectiveness ran almost too deeply at times, and Bucky did not think it was outside the realm of possibility that Becca might cut ties with them if she found out that they knew Steve.

As far as Bucky was concerned, they were fine. Beyond the alpha being royally pissed at Steve over what he'd done, the few times he'd met with them they hadn't brought up Steve at all, which in Bucky's book meant they weren't trying to manipulate him to get him and Steve back together.

 

“Daddy, _Daddy!_ ” Sadie cried the moment that they pulled up, bursting out of the front door with a glass jar in her hands, filled with some kind of white glob in lieu of some sort of bug, for once. “Lookie!”

“I'm...looking,” Bucky replied, staring at the white glob bemusedly. When Clint and Lola exited through the front door, the omega bracketed by Sadie's cousin as well as a golden retriever, he saw that Lola was smiling and holding a similar jar with yet another glob in it.

“It's _butter!_ ” Sadie explained excitedly. “We _made_ it! Uncle Clint gave us all jars of cream and we had to shake it a whole bunch and my arms kept getting tired so Auntie Nat helped, and I did more when my arms weren't tired anymore and after a _long_ time it got blobby! And Uncle Clint showed me a special dance to make it go faster!”

Without waiting for an invitation, Sadie began to jump from side to side, shaking her jar and making the glob of butter splat against the top and bottom of the jar while she sang, “ _Shake, shake, shake Se_ _ñ_ _ora, shake your butter right!”_

Clint grinned broadly, while Bucky began to laugh.

“Come on, you silly goof,” Bucky said while Becca exited the vehicle, she pointedly leaving the contact info for Dr Strange on the passenger seat. “Let's go and have some supper.”

“Okay!”

Sadie clambered into the back seat, still gibbering happily about her butter, and held it tightly in her hands while she buckled her seat belt.

“Bye!” Sadie called once Bucky rolled down her window, and turned to smile at the group assembled on the lawn, though it became a little fixed when Sadie added, “will you come to my party?”

By the way she was gazing at Clint and Natasha it left no room for ambiguity as to who she was talking to. Clint smiled weakly, while Natasha's expression remained impassive, as though they also understood that it was tricky territory.

“We'll see, honey,” Clint said. “Me and Nat have gotta check our special notebooks to make sure we're not working, but I promise we'll let your daddy know before the party.”

“Okay,” Sadie replied, thankfully placated by the explanation. “Can you bring more crafts?”

“Yeah, sure,” Clint agreed with a laugh, and the dog barked once as though in agreement.

“I'll be in touch,” Bucky said, his eyes shifting from Becca and Lola, then to Clint and Nat. “And...thanks.”

Bucky wasn't completely sure who he was talking to, and he drove off before he could elaborate to any of them. He switched on the radio, and Sadie hummed along to AC/DC while they headed home, Bucky's eyes trailing over to the papers Becca left on his passenger seat more than once as they went.

 

Sadie raced ahead of Bucky once he parked in their driveway, and Bucky dawdled in gathering up his papers and locking the car before he moved to join his daughter on the stoop in order to unlock the door.

She barrelled inside, saying something about buttered toast as she went, while Bucky paused yet again, this time to check the mail.

There was only one envelope in the box, and quite suddenly Bucky was relieved that Sadie had raced in ahead, just as Bucky felt a cold sick dread overwhelm him.

The envelope was large and rectangular, coloured a pale pink, and there was a princess sticker on the back holding the flap shut.

Clearly, it was a birthday card for Sadie, but that was not what was the true cause of his fear.

On the front of the card in the top left-hand corner was the original sender's address—some place in Washington, DC, with the name _B. Rumlow._

Bucky pressed his back against the door when he felt himself begin to shake. He felt hot and cold at the same time, his vision was wavering, and for a moment he was certain that he was going to puke.

_I have to see what he said before I give this to Sadie,_ Bucky thought as he flipped the envelope over with shaking hands. _I have to make sure he didn't say anything hurtful. I won't let him hurt her—not again._

Bucky ripped away the princess sticker with less care than he'd intended, but his hands were shaking too much to try and lift it free in one piece. He tugged the card out, finding a simple pink card with a drawing of a girly princess-pink cupcake on the front with no sort of sentiment, displaying, once again, how little Brock truly knew of their daughter. All of Sadie's other birthday cards she'd gotten so far had displayed an ongoing theme of insects or spiders, something that Brock always refused to acknowledge, as though it was somehow offensive for Sadie to like something that the horrible alpha had always considered to be a _boy thing_.

Bucky swallowed, and he flipped open the card.

 

_Hi Baby Girl,_

_Happy Birthday._

_I miss you, did your daddy tell you that? Did he say how I miss you?_

_He won't let me see you, you know. I'm not allowed to see you because he's just a bitch and a whore. He's spiteful, like all omegas._

_Happy 8 th Birthday._

_Papa_

 

There was no printed sentiment; it was just a blank card. The words that Brock had written were shaky and smeared, lending to the impression that he was probably drunk when he wrote it. Paired with it was the wrong age of their daughter, yet again portraying how little Brock actually knew her.

Everything seemed to compound on him in that moment for Bucky.

Steve, Sam—and now _Brock_.

Bucky bit his lip so hard that he tasted blood. Tears began to streak his cheeks as he slid into a heap on his doorstep, crying as silently as he dared in order to limit the chance that Sadie might overhear while his entire body seemed to vibrate with tremors of anguish and fear.

“Bucky?”

Steve's voice broke through the din suddenly, and Bucky heard a soft rustle. When he looked up, he saw that Steve had set down two reusable bags full of groceries on Bucky's lawn, and he was approaching Bucky cautiously with Bea at his side, as though he wasn't sure if his presence would be welcome or not.

“B-Brock,” Bucky whispered brokenly, waving the card in his hand as he continued to cry, still wholly unable to stop, and he gasped for breath as he tried to calm his trembling. “H-He...and...and...y-you...a-and...”

Bucky broke off as he took another shuddering breath, staring up at Steve pleadingly, while concurrently not being entirely sure what he was pleading for. He could confidently say that he still didn't wholly trust Steve, but at the same time, he couldn't bear the idea that he might walk away right now.

Steve stepped a little closer, his expression guarded, but concerned. There was no selfish hope in his eyes for himself or for their relationship in that moment, which Bucky could feel through the bond—all Steve felt was worry for Bucky's well-being.

“Tell me what you need, Bucky,” Steve said softly once he'd reached Bucky, and crouched down in front of him.

Without thinking, Bucky lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Steve's neck in a tight hug.

Steve tensed, but relaxed almost immediately, he patting Bucky's back with an uncertain air, like he was afraid how Bucky might react when the omega finally came back to himself.

_You,_ Bucky thought as he wept into Steve's shoulder. _I need you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just want to note, especially for the readers who are still justifiably mad at Steve, that the end of this chapter is not intended to be viewed as some kind of attempted “quick fix” for their situation. There is more healing to work through, and I feel that it'd be unrealistic to assume that Bucky is magically better at this juncture in the story. I just wanted to point this out here because I feel that this particular chapter ending could be interpreted that way, and I don't want you guys to think I'm taking the easy way out because I'm tired of the angst or something like that.


	16. Renewal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Enter Doctor Strange :P I just want to note that I am vaguely unfamiliar with Strange's character, as I haven't seen the actual Doctor Strange movie, and only know him in Infinity War/Endgame. As a result my portrayal of him might be a bit off, and my beta noted that he tended to veer towards BBC Sherlock and/or Severus Snape at times. I did my best to fix this, but apologies in advance if his characterization isn't perfect. Next update is scheduled for October 22nd.

Chapter Sixteen – Renewal

 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” the voice of Bucky's new therapist was dryly sardonic, and he did not look up from his paperwork when Bucky stepped into his office and shut the door behind him. “Twelve o'clock exactly; good. I don't keep on patients who have no sense of time.”

“Uh...well...I guess since I'm coming from so far, it made sense to show up on time?” Bucky replied, forming his response as a question, while Strange at last looked up to him, and he threaded together his long fingers while he regarded the omega. 

“Do you plan to do your session standing up, Mr Barnes?” he asked, and Bucky felt himself flush with embarrassment. 

“Uh...no, I just...” he trailed off, and forced a laugh. “Sorry, I'm just...nervous.”

“Have a seat, Mr Barnes.” 

Bucky sat.

“Now, your former therapist was good enough to send along his notes on you, per your request and full consent,” Strange continued, his eyes falling to the paperwork again. “As I understand it, you parted ways with Doctor Wilson due to the fact that he broke your trust pretty spectacularly, and yet you elected to not press charges.” He looked up. “Why is that?”

“Sam's a good guy,” Bucky replied, somewhat evasively as he directed his gaze to his knees. Doctor Strange's office was much more fancy than Sam's had been, and the blatant displays of the man's wealth was making Bucky feel a little bit like some kind of street urchin while he continued to speak. “I mean, I understand that what he did was entirely  _ not  _ good, but he only talked about me because he was trying to help someone; it wasn't from some sort of bad place, if that makes sense. He was friends with my boyfriend...or ex-boyfriend...or...something. I'm not sure which we are, to be honest. Anyway, Sam came by and I overheard them talking. All he said that I was his patient, not really anything personal, but I didn't think that that was right either, and I spoke to Becca—my sister—and she told me that it was in my best interest to fire him as my therapist. She wanted me to file a formal complaint, but I didn't think it was necessary.”

“Hmm, that seems to be a theme with you,” Strange mused as he dropped his gaze to the paperwork again, and flipped through it. “Quite the colourful history, and even so, I don't see a single police report or restraining order in here against your former spouse. Can you tell me why that is?”

“It's complicated,” Bucky replied with a grimace.

“Bore me,” Strange said, the faintest shadow of a smile upon his face as he spoke, and Bucky immediately felt himself relax. Strange got up, and he collected a pitcher of water and two glasses from on top of one of the filing cabinets. He poured them each a glass, and pressed one into Bucky's hand. “Imagine for a moment that your life is a movie. I am just the viewer, and due to bad planning, I am only coming in at the end. You should to tell me what happened so that I may help you, Mr Barnes.”

“Do I  _ have  _ to tell you?” Bucky ventured, and Strange smirked at him, though he couldn't quite suss out what the therapist found so funny.

“No,” Strange replied, nodding his head once in acquiescence. “However, I think it would be in your best interest to tell me all that you can so that I can truly help you heal, and so that neither of us are wasting our time here. Don't you think?”

“Okay, you have a point,” Bucky admitted as he took a swig of the water. “Jeez, you really don't beat around the bush, do you?”

“I always felt that pussyfooting around a topic isn't what you might call helpful,” Strange said. “Even so, I'll never  _ force  _ you to discuss anything, no matter if it's a never-ever topic, or something you just don't feel ready to talk about. I'll never B-S you, Mr Barnes, but I'm not here to hurt you.”

“Oh, okay,” Bucky replied, and he smiled incrementally in relief. Strange was definitely a little cold, maybe even a little arrogant, but it helped to know that he had no plans to  _ force  _ Bucky to talk about something he really didn't want to. 

“The Brock thing...I guess...well, even though he gave me full custody of Sadie without much of a fight, I never really wanted to feel like I was taking Sadie away from her dad,” Bucky explained, dropping his gaze again as he spoke. He didn't like talking about it much, especially after he tried to explain it to Becca more than once, and she thought he was completely nuts for feeling how he did about the whole thing. “The cops were called to our apartment in Brooklyn more than once, and I always sent them away. I felt like...even though I was a literal  _ mess _ , I could never decide which was worse—Sadie hearing her papa beat up her daddy, or seeing her papa in handcuffs. So I just...never did anything about it.

“When I left him for good, I didn't want to do anything that might stop Sadie from knowing her dad later in life...I felt like...like...it'd just kill me if I did something so permanent, especially before Sadie really understood it. I mean, she never wanted to be around Brock, she was scared of him, but after we split, he never really did the scary things you sometimes hear about...he never stalked us, he never really harassed us, he just...up and left. Last I heard he was living with a buddy in D.C and doing private security. He makes good money, but I haven't seen a cent of it in child support. I know I could sue him...or something...I'm not really sure how the legalities work, but I just...don't want to deal with him if I can help it.”

“And so you'd rather he get away with being the world's worst father instead of dealing with it?” Strange asked, and yet despite his words, there was no accusation in the tone of his voice. He sounded merely curious, instead of like he was judging Bucky on his behaviour. 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “Like...I just  _ can't  _ with him. I freak out and fall apart. Like...recently, Brock sent Sadie a birthday card, which he's  _ never done _ . And being the hyper-protective parent that I am, I opened it before I showed Sadie, just to make sure he wasn't being a complete shit— _ again— _ and the words were just... _ awful _ . I'm like ninety-five percent sure he was drunk when he wrote it, and it was all this shit about me being some kind of horrible manipulator because I won't let Brock see Sadie, which  _ isn't  _ true, and he even got her birthday wrong. Thank god Steve was there...I dunno what I would've done if he hadn't been around...”

“Steve...he's your alpha?” Strange ventured, his eyebrows raising in surprise when Bucky tensed. “He's... _ not  _ your alpha?”

“It's...complicated,” Bucky repeated, but this time he did not need an invitation, and launched into the story of him and Steve, from the alpha's initial move-in to the Big Betrayal. Bucky did his best to not leave anything out as he talked. Bucky had no idea how long he talked but Strange, to his credit, listened patiently, never appearing bored by Bucky's monologue.

“And then he came when I had that Brock-Breakdown, and he was just so...so... _ Steve _ ,” Bucky concluded, his voice breaking a little, though he wasn't completely sure if it was exhaustion from talking so much, or an overwhelm of emotion. “He was back to the Steve I fell for. He never touched me, just asked me what I needed, and I realized that I still wanted him in my life, but I don't even know what that  _ means  _ anymore. I want him, but I'm still sort of...wary of him. I know he didn't mean to do what he did, but he still  _ did it _ . It's just so confusing.”

“That a lot to unpack, Mr Barnes,” Strange observed, drumming his fingers on his chin for a moment before he continued. “Let's start at the beginning, all right?” Bucky nodded when Strange paused, then the therapist pressed on smoothly. “I agree, first of all, that having Rumlow out of your lives is better—and  _ safer— _ for both of you. Abusers never change, and pursuing any kind of legal action, even if it was feasible, I could not recommend in good conscience. Rumlow, based on your past experiences, would likely become violent, maybe even dangerous. You are doing right by your daughter in distancing yourself from him; you have nothing to be ashamed of. You can absolutely seek legal action in the future regarding the unpaid child support, but for the moment I think it would be healthier to focus on yourself, instead of what Rumlow is or is not doing.

“Now, as to the birthday card incident...” Strange paused for a moment, regarding Bucky seriously before he said, “can you maybe tell me why you opened it at all, instead of just tearing it up?”

“I guess...maybe some sort of morbid curiosity?” Bucky ventured, forming the answer like a question again, but Strange did not react to it one way or the other, which Bucky didn't really understand. Was it really so bad that he opened the letter at all? 

“I don't know,” Bucky said at last. “It's not like I got a restraining order against him or anything, like I said. I guess...maybe a tiny part of me...well, kind of hoped that he'd have something nice to say to his child on her birthday. Is that wrong?”

“Not wrong in the strictest sense, but I have to say that it is a little concerning,” Strange replied with a patient sort of evenness to his tone. “It gives me the impression that you are not fully over the abuse you suffered at Rumlow's hands, and still feel victimized by him. How do you feel about that?”

“ _ What? _ ” Bucky sputtered, his eyes widening. “I'm not—I mean, he's not—I haven't seen that bastard in  _ three years! _ Of course I'm over it!”

“But you suffered from a panic attack the moment that you saw the card,” Strange filled in. Once again his tone wasn't accusing, but merely observant. “It implies that Rumlow still has an emotional hold over you. That is not your fault, Mr Barnes, I want to emphasize that—it is  _ not  _ your fault. Sometimes it takes years for abuse survivors to recover from something like this.” He paused, and sipped his own glass of water briefly before he added, “I think in the future, it might be best to disregard any letters or cards from Mr Rumlow. Clearly his words are only poison, and you do not put cyanide into a healing wound, do you?”

“I...” Bucky trailed off, and winced. “Does that mean I'll never get over what Brock did to me and my daughter?”

“I didn't say that,” Strange replied patiently, almost gently. “Abuse is a terrible thing to endure, and even harder when there is a child involved. From the notes I have, all signs point to the fact that you handled things very well, or as well as could be expected given the circumstances. You're much more put-together than some abuse survivors I have worked with, and you should feel proud of that. You are holding it together and moving on with your life; if the card is any indication, he isn't. He's still the same sad, pathetic man he has always been, and entertaining his words is not helpful to your healing process. That means that if you get any more cards or letters from him, just tear them up. Don't let them hold sway over you.”

“I...I guess I can do that,” Bucky admitted with a wince. “When Steve saw the card Brock sent, he got really mad. I can't remember what he said exactly, I was a little bit of a wreck, but he was doing that heavy breathing thing some people do when they're pissed off but don't want to show it? And he just...shredded the card and sat with me until I calmed down. He even distracted Sadie with a few colouring books and a box of cookies from his grocery bag so that I could have a minute to myself.”

“It sounds like this Steve guy is really trying to do right by you,” Strange observed, “how are you feeling about all that?”

“Confused, scared, and a little bit hopeful,” Bucky replied, wincing a little as he listed the third emotion. He still wasn't sure if that was the right call. “I know Steve didn't mean to do what he did, but in a different way that Brock claimed he never knew what he was doing. Brock always...he always blamed  _ me  _ for when he'd get mad and start throwing punches. He blamed me for his drinking too, said he did it to  _ put up  _ with me, and that he gets jealous because he loved me so much, and all this other crap. Took me forever to figure out it was just a pack of lies, and he just liked hitting people. 

“But Steve...he's not like that.” Bucky paused, and bit his lip, his gaze falling to his knees again. “He hasn't once blamed me for him losing control like that. I mean, I know it was still wrong of him, and I know he should have known better than to do  _ that  _ without a mouth guard, but...it's hard to stay mad when he's clearly trying so hard to make things right. Sometimes I even think he'd be completely okay if we decided to call it quits. He's just...so determined to make amends and not force himself back into my life if I don't want him there.”

“I get the impression that despite the many hurdles you two still have to jump over, you're not quite ready to not have him in your life,” Strange observed, and Bucky laughed humourlessly.

“I don't think so,” Bucky admitted. “Maybe it's wrong, but sometimes I feel like the only time I feel anywhere in the realm of okay is when I'm with him. I care about him, but I'm just not sure if I trust him.”

“And that's something we can work on if you truly want to fix this,” Strange said, pressing his hands against his desk, almost in an inviting gesture. “Rebuilding trust takes work, and sometimes more work than two people can do alone. If you like, you can bring Steve to one of our meetings, and I can act as mediator between you two. We can work on some trust exercises together that should help to start you guys on your way to a happier...coupling.” Strange paused, his expression considering, before he added, “only if you want to, Mr Barnes. Do not feel obligated to mend your relationship for anyone but yourself—not even Steve. Trying to fix something you don't want to be fixed can often do more harm than good, so  _ really  _ think about it; can you promise me that?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, his smile coming more easily than it had in weeks. “I promise.”

 

~*~

 

“How'd it go?”

Becca's voice filtered back to Bucky from the waiting room as he exited the elevator. When he looked up he saw his sister there standing there with her purse clutched to her chest and looking apprehensive but hopeful. 

“Guy really doesn't pull any punches,” Bucky said in response as he grinned crookedly at Becca, and he saw her shoulders sag in relief. “He said I could bring Steve sometime if I wanted, for like...trust exercises and stuff.”

“But that's good...right?” Becca ventured as the siblings fell into step with one another and began to head for the building's exit. Unlike Sam's work building, which had felt small and homey, this one was situated in a huge skyscraper in the middle of the city. Bucky was sure that the carpets alone cost more than his tax return. Despite how impersonal it all was, he could say with confidence that he liked Strange enough to see him again, which was a relief. Finding a therapist to mesh with could be a real trial, and Bucky considered it lucky that he found Strange so fast.

“Yeah, it's good,” Bucky confirmed after a pause as they stepped out into the rain. He pulled up the hood of his sweater with his hand. “Come on, I need greasy food before we head back.”

“Pizza?” Becca asked, and Bucky grinned.

 

The pair made a point of driving to Brooklyn before they began to actively look for a place to stop and eat. Both siblings knew they were being pizza snobs, but neither did they care, and laughed as they breezed past the chain restaurants before they at last stopped outside a place called Sully's, which, despite the name, looked like a charming little café right off the streets of Napoli. 

Inside they snagged a booth, and ordered a large margherita pizza to share. Over their soft drinks, Becca was the first one to break the silence.

“So how do you think Sadie's doing?” she ventured, and Bucky pursed his lips. He did  _ not  _ want to have this discussion again. 

“Probably running with scissors, playing with matches, steal candy from...some guy,” Bucky replied sarcastically, and Becca frowned at him. “She's probably having a blast, Becks. Steve and me might be on the rocks, but he adores Sadie, and I trust him with her completely.”

“Still...” Becca began, but Bucky was quick to cut her off. 

“Look, I needed you to come with me to this appointment, Lola's out of town with her dad, Sadie's best friend's family is off in the woods camping, and Clint and Nat were busy. He was my last option, and besides, Sadie was  _ thrilled  _ when I told her. Steve's always been really good with her, and despite all the shit we're going through, I do trust him with her, so please...just drop it.”

“I'm not sorry, but I'll let it go for now,” Becca said grumpily, while Bucky rolled his eyes. “I just don't get why you trust him so much.”

“It's an Alpha-Omega thing,” Bucky muttered around his soft drink's straw, and he chewed on it sullenly. “Plus we're mated, even though it was accidental. I can feel his feelings, so it's easy to tell when Steve's lying. Right now I feel like this...low thrum. Like contentment, and little bursts of happiness...like pop rocks.”

“Happiness is pop rocks?” Becca asked, arching a brow at him, and Bucky laughed to himself.

“Yeah,” he agreed, glancing up in time to see their pizza on its way over. “Happiness is pop rocks.”

 

~*~

 

Bucky and Becca made it back to Albany just after five. They didn't speak much, especially when Becca seemed determined to voice her concerns over Steve, despite Bucky's insistence that everything was  _ fine _ . 

And it was—he knew that it was. He could feel a mélange of contentment, little bursts of joy, laughter...it was clear that Steve wasn't feeling anything bad or malicious. In fact, leaving Sadie with Steve had been more reassuring than any babysitter Bucky had had before. The mating, however unwanted, was almost like a nannycam in his head, and he could know for certain that Sadie was completely all right.

Though overall his day with Becca had ended on a positive note, Bucky still had no desire to invite her to dinner, and was quick to drop her off at home before he headed back to his own place. Her mistrust of Steve, while completely understandable, had still left a bad taste in his mouth, and he didn't want to give her an opening to harass Steve any further.

Maybe he was being an idiot for protecting Steve after what he had done, but Bucky didn't care—he knew that Steve was trying to do right by Bucky, even if no one else believed it.

 

“Knock, knock!” Bucky called as he walked inside. “Anybody home?”

“ _ Daddy! _ ” Sadie called at the same moment that Steve let out a yelp, and when Bucky turned, he saw his daughter barrelling out of the bathroom, dressed in her old, ratty clothes, and her hands were covered in some sort of crusty white goo. Her shirt and leggings were dusted with flour and splatters of water, and it only took Bucky about ten seconds to work out why his daughter was such a mess, given that the air was thick with the scent of fresh bread. “Guess what we made!”

“Hmm...” Bucky intoned, smirking as he hung up his bag by the door. “Did you...make a cake?”

“No, Daddy!” Sadie said with a giggle.

“Hmm...how about, oh, your favourite! Salad!”

“No, Daddy!” she said, giggling even more as she wrinkled her nose. “Steve helped me make challah! It took forever and  _ ever!  _ And we had to mush the dough a million times until it was stretchy, and I wanted to eat it so bad but Steve said we have to wait for you to get home first, and so I waited and waited and  _ waited! _ ”

“And then you ran away while getting cleaned up,” Steve finally supplied, grinning as he stepped up to join Bucky and Sadie, his shirt speckled with water and his jeans dusted with a little more flour than Sadie's own outfit. “Maybe if you go wash your hands real good, you can tell your dad all about your day?”

“Okay!”

In a flash Sadie was racing down the hall in order to properly clean herself up. 

 

Unfortunately, the absence of Bucky's daughter left a sizeable awkward silence in its wake, and Steve smiled uncertainly as he gazed at Bucky. Bea, apparently sensing the tension, meandered over to Steve from her spot in the living room, and sat at his side. 

“Um...do you...want me to go?” Steve ventured when they hadn't spoken for nearly a solid minute, the alpha's hand falling to the top of Bea's head, visibly seeking comfort from the german shepherd. “I mean, I don't want to make this weird.”

“No, you can stay—I  _ want  _ you to stay,” Bucky replied, his words escaping him in a rush, and they were accompanied by Steve offering Bucky a dubious look. “Um...I didn't know you could cook...or, bake, in this case.”

“I can do both, it's just not my favourite activity,” Steve admitted with a weak laugh. “Nat thinks it's hilarious that I can eat such crappy food and still look like I do. Our neighbours back in Brooklyn—me and my parents, I mean—they were this old Jewish couple, and I used to  _ love  _ their challah bread, so the omega, Bernice, taught me. I thought it'd be fun for Sadie to learn it. She had a  _ blast _ kneading the bread. I can't braid worth a damn though, so we just dumped it into the pans like normal bread.”

“Sounds like she had a good time,” Bucky said, and Steve smiled at him weakly, almost hopefully. “Uh...my new therapist, Doctor Steven Strange, he said you could come to one of our sessions, like...couples therapy? And trust exercises?” Bucky winced, and forced out a laugh. “There was more of a lead-in to that in my head, but...I mean, if you want to.”

“Whatever you need, but, Bucky, are you sure about this?” Steve asked, motioning vaguely between them to imply that he meant their relationship. “I mean, I won't hold it against you if you really wanna call it quits. Say the word and I'll leave. This is all on me, and I don't want you to blame yourself, or force yourself to do this if you're not sure. I don't want to hurt you again.”

“Honestly, I don't know,” Bucky said, heaving a sigh as he cast a quick glance towards the hallway before he continued, reassured that Sadie seemed to be busy washing her hands. “I just know that I'm not ready to live my life without you in it, Steve. I think the only way we'll really know anything for sure is by trying...I mean, as long as you want to. I don't want to push you into anything either.”

“I do want to, Bucky,” Steve replied at once, his voice softening to something almost pleading as he spoke. “I care about you and Sadie whole a lot, and I know that I hurt you, and I ruined your trust in me because I was an overconfident shit. I don't want to do that again, that's why I wanna make sure you're sure.”

“I'm not,” Bucky said with a defeated sigh as he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Steve's waist, before he pressed his cheek to his chest. Steve didn't move, as though he wasn't sure whether or not his touch would be welcome. “I'm  _ really  _ not. But I also know that I wanna try.”

“Okay,” Steve replied readily, his agreement coming sooner than Bucky had expected, though he was sure there was probably more protests to come—Steve seemed determined to not repeat his past mistake in any way. 

Instead of the expected protest, Steve's voice voice dropped to a whisper as he murmured, “whatever you need, Bucky.”

Steve coiled his own arms around Bucky in kind. The touch was gentle, warm, and uncertain. He pressed a tentative kiss to the omega's hair, and Bucky's eyelids fluttered shut as he held Steve close.


	17. Counsel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for November 5th. Enjoy!
> 
> **Note: Going into November, I will be participating in NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. While this rarely impacts my fanfic work, I thought I'd give you guys a heads up in case I fail at keeping it all straight, so to speak :P This year I'm hoping to complete my original ABO novel, which you can learn more about on my fanfic, craft, and writing blog on Tumblr under the same username, Jbankai89.**

Chapter Seventeen – Counsel

 

Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat as they drove. This was far from what he'd consider a pleasant trek, and Bucky was starting to wish that he'd taken up Steve on his offer to head to the city in different cars.

_ But no, I had to protest how wasteful that idea was, and insist that he carpool with me, _ Bucky thought as he pursed his lips a little. Steve bowed his head a little as he drew his arms more tightly into his lap, very much like he was trying to make himself smaller.

Which was impossible really, in particular when Steve was as big as a house.

“You think this Strange guy will have some stuff that'll help us?” Steve asked, his eyes lifting, but he fixed his gaze upon the passing scenery rather than on Bucky. Though it was now early September, it was not yet cool enough for the seasons to show any sort of degree of change and it still felt very much like August. At least Sadie was now back in school and he didn't need to worry about finding a sitter, though Becca had promised to pick Sadie up at the end of the day and watch her until Bucky and Steve got back to Albany.

“He's had some good stuff to say to me,” Bucky replied, doing his best to speak casually. He hadn't been in an enclosed space with Steve in a long time, and it was proving more stressful than he'd anticipated. “He's really tough though, and he doesn't let you down easy.”

“Then I'm sure it'll be great,” Steve offered with a weak smile. “I mean...as long as this is what you really want.”

“What I  _ really want _ is for you to stop asking me that,” Bucky said tersely, and he didn't bother to apologize for his tone, even when Steve winced. He was tired of alphas trying to tell him what he wanted. “Look, you and I want to be together—you know that and I know that. I don't want you pulling that self-sacrificing bullshit just because you royally messed up. We've agreed to go to therapy together to see if we can actually work this thing out. Once we're a few sessions deep, we'll know for sure if this is a huge mistake or not. No harm, no foul.”

“Okay.”

Steve spoke the word softly, his head bowed again. From the back seat, Bea let out a soft whine, wiggling forward until she was able to nose Steve's shoulder. The alpha smiled, and reached back to pet her.

Bucky sighed, and returned his attention to the road.

It was going to be a long drive.

 

~*~

 

The pair made it to Strange's building with plenty of time to spare. They stopped to let Bea go to the bathroom, then headed up to Strange's office, where they waited in painfully awkward silence for fifteen minutes before the receptionist said, “you may go in now.”

Bucky led the way, guiding Steve and Bea into the office. Steve was quiet and visibly nervous, while Bucky felt oddly calm. Their discussion cum argument in the car had burnt off most of his anger, and now he was keen to see if there was any hope for their flagging relationship.

 

“Mr Barnes, Mr Rogers,” Strange greeted, nodding to each of them in turn. “Can I get either of you some water?”

“Please,” Bucky and Steve said at the same time, and they both laughed as they exchanged a look.

They sat in the chairs in front of Strange's desk, while the therapist poured each of them a tall glass of water from his fancy-looking jug. When Bucky sipped it, he found it to be lightly flavoured with lemon.

“Now,” Strange said as he sat down across from them, and steepled his fingers as he gazed at the pair. “I would like you to tell me why you are here, and what you hope to accomplish. Bucky, you first.”

“I...” Bucky hesitated, glancing over at Steve, and the alpha offered him a weak smile, and motioned for him to go on. “I want to fix things between us. I know what Steve did was horrible, but he didn't mean it—not really. I mean, he didn't do it maliciously, and I don't feel like he was trying to cage me in by this—I  _ really _ believe that. But we definitely need a little help getting our shi—um, getting it together. I don't want to jump in blind and risk us messing it all up again.”

“And Mr Rogers? How about you?”

“I wanted to fix it from the start, but only if Bucky wanted that,” Steve explained. He fidgeted once, and Bucky could feel unease through the bond, somewhere between nervousness and true anxiety. “It's true that I didn't mean to do what I did, but Bucky paints it too nicely—it  _ is  _ my fault. I was too arrogant and self-confident. If it weren't for me, none of this would be happening. I do want to fix it, like I said, but I never wanted to push Bucky towards that decision. So I hope we're both here 'cause we're on the same page in terms of wanting to make things better between us.”

“I see, that sounds fair,” Strange said as he nodded his head once. “As I said to Bucky during our first session, I would be happy to counsel you both and offer up trust exercises in order to help you two learn to trust each other again.”

“You mean like...the falling back thing?” Steve ventured, and Bucky fought to roll his eyes.

“We could do that,” Strange said, visibly unaffected by Steve's question. “However, I'd like to start with something of...a game, if you like.”

“What kind of game?” Bucky asked as he went for his water again, while Steve kept quiet.

“Think of it as a  _ How Well Do I Know You?  _ Sort of game,” Strange explained. “What I would like you to do is face one another, and voice facts that you know about the other. It doesn't need to be serious at first, it can be simple things like their favourite colour or type of candy, and you progress towards more serious subjects, should you feel comfortable. The goal is to show each other just how well you know the other person. I've found it helps to rebuild trust in couples who are having a difficult time.”

Bucky forced himself to nod in understanding to Strange's explanation, though privately it didn't sound all that helpful. How would Steve knowing his birthday make things better between them?

Despite his misgivings, Bucky set down his glass and moved his chair until it was facing Steve's. It was something of a comfort that Steve looked as doubtful as Bucky felt, and when he sat down again, Bucky felt a great deal calmer.

Unfortunately, when Steve joined him, an awkward silence seemed to fall between them. Bucky chewed his lip as he glanced over to Strange, and he inclined his head encouragingly at the couple.

“Um...well, Steve, I know your favourite colour is blue?”

“Yeah, it is,” Steve replied, smiling a little. “Yours is red.”

“You know how to cook, but you don't like to,” Bucky replied, and Steve's smile seemed to broaden a little.

“You love to cook, as long as it's kosher, except that one time I saw you sneak a few shrimp off my plate when we were out together.”

“I like seafood, okay? It's my _one_ occasional cheat!” Bucky replied, surprising himself when he laughed. “You love your friends like a big dysfunctional family.”

“You love your daughter more than anything in the world, and she'll always come first,” Steve added, and to Bucky's surprise, Steve did not sound at all embittered by that statement.

“You care a lot for Sadie, and you always treat her really well. She adores you.”

“She's easy to adore,” Steve added with a small smile. “Her favourite movie is  _ Moana, _ and yours is the  _ Police Academy _ series.”

 

Bucky marvelled silently as they continued to talk, sharing facts back and forth easily. He was genuinely surprised by how much more comfortable he actually felt as the conversation progressed, and until that point, Bucky hadn't realized just how observant Steve really was—where Brock could barely remember Bucky or Sadie's birthday, Steve seemed to be able to recall every single detail of anything Bucky had ever told him—the good, and the bad.

“The sight and smell of beer triggers you both, because it reminds you of...Sadie's dad,” Steve said, “and you don't drink much, except for the occasional glass of wine.”

“You like beer, but you were always considerate enough to not drink it around us,” Bucky added, whispering the words to his knees. Why did that knowledge make him feel so inexplicably sad?

“The sound of anyone raising their voice makes you nervous, but it's worse when it's a man.”

“You don't handle emotional conflict well, especially when it comes between you and Bea.”

“You're stronger than me when it comes to fireworks.”

Steve's words felt like they had sealed Bucky's throat. Abruptly, he got up from his chair and moved to hug Steve, while he returned the gesture. Bucky shifted his grip in order to pet Steve's hair when he felt the alpha's tears dampening the shoulder of his shirt, while Bea got up in order to lick Steve's arm.

“I think we'll stop it there for today,” Strange said, his voice so sudden that it caused Bucky to jump a little as he turned to him, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“That's it? That's all we're doing today?” Bucky asked, blinking at him, and Strange chortled softly, as though something was funny.

“You two have been talking for over an hour,” Strange replied. “Didn't you notice?”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a look. It hadn't felt like an hour. Bucky checked his phone to be certain, and sure enough, they'd talked ten minutes past the hourly visit with Strange. 

“Huh,” Bucky said, glancing up. “I guess we really got, uh, wrapped up in the conversation.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, sounding just as surprised as Bucky did. “Is that it? We're...cured?”

“I sincerely doubt a little talk has solved all the problems you two are still experiencing,” Strange replied, his tone a little dry, and Steve frowned. “If it works for both of you, I'd like to see you here next week for another session.”

“Okay,” Bucky said before he glanced over to Steve. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, all right,” Steve replied with a little shrug. “Works for me. If it helps us, I'll do anything.”

 

~*~

 

Outside, after organizing a date for their next visit, Steve seemed to slump forward a little, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. “Man, you weren't kidding about him. I feel like I went twelve rounds with Muhammad Ali. Think we could grab a bite before we head back to Albany?”

“I always do,” Bucky replied, smiling faintly at Steve, compulsively reaching for the alpha's hand, and he began to guide him down the sidewalk. “Come on, let's go.”

They decided on a burger joint with a terrasse so that they wouldn't have to bring Bea inside, and Bucky ran in with Steve's order request—double cheeseburger with bacon, large fries and a diet coke, and some water for Bea.

Bucky's order was a little more tame, a burger with fried onions, fries, and a peach iced tea. He brought everything back out to where Steve was waiting, and the pair of them dug into their fatty lunches.

“He's a good therapist,” Steve offered after a few minutes of silence while he drenched a french fry in mayonnaise. “I can see why you like him.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. He found, oddly enough, that it felt easier to talk to Steve in the wake of their conversation in Strange's office, though he still knew that they were by no means  _ all the way better.  _ It was a start, however—and Bucky felt good about that. “After all that...well,  _ stuff,  _ with Sam, it was a big relief to find this guy.”

“I'm sorry about that, by the way,” Steve offered, pausing in his fry dunking as he gazed at Bucky. “I tried to stop him, but he didn't...he didn't say anything about you, not really. He shouldn't've said  _ anything  _ to me though—he was way out of line.”

“You did what you could,” Bucky replied with a vague shrug. He remembered that Steve had stopped Sam talking, but part of him almost felt like Steve should've done  _ more _ , like not engaged with Sam at all.

_ It's the past, _ Bucky thought as he bit into his burger again.  _ We won't get anywhere if I keep dragging it to the surface. _

 

~*~

 

A few hours later, Steve and Bucky found themselves pulling up outside their houses. Sadie was still at Becca's, given that Steve had awkwardly asked to be dropped off first, given how strained things still were between them.

“Hey, um...” Steve began when Bucky took his hand off the wheel. “Would you like to go out with me?”

Bucky blinked.

“I...beg your pardon?” Bucky asked, and Steve laughed nervously, one hand running through his hair as he gazed across at Bucky. 

“I mean like...we're starting over, right? Trying to fix my fuck-up? So I was thinking...maybe another way we could start over is like...a date.” Steve paused, and he inhaled a shaky breath, his eyes a little wide as though he'd suddenly uttered some sort of horrible slur, though this time Bucky wasn't entirely sure what Steve was freaking out about. “I—I mean...you don't  _ have  _ to say yes. If you think it's stupid or you're not comfortable with it we don't have to, I was just thinking out loud, and—”

“Breathe, baby,” Bucky interrupted, reaching his arm out so that they could touch hands. The contact making Steve jump a little, but he relaxed in almost the same breath.

“My friend Tony wants to meet you, too.”

Bucky blinked, a little thrown by the abrupt shift in topic. Added to that, there was an odd lilt to his voice when he spoke about his buddy, as though Tony wanted to meet him for more reasons than just because he was friends with Steve.

“One thing at a time, Steve,” Bucky said gently, his thumb brushing over the back of Steve's tense hand, though the act did not seem to help the alpha calm down very much. “First, I think a date is great idea—good way to start over, show each other we mean it.” Bucky paused, and smiled when Steve smiled. “Second, why does this Tony guy want to meet me  _ now? _ Maybe I'm being paranoid, but the way you brought it up, makes me feel like he doesn't just wanna meet me to meet me...you know?”

“He wants to...give you a hand,” Steve explained, “to use his words.”

“A hand with what?”

“No...a  _ hand _ ,” Steve emphasized, smiling weakly, perhaps a little apologetically at the tasteless joke. “He donates bionic limbs to vet amputees, and he designs them himself. Ever since he found out you were an amputee, he's wanted to build you one. He was planning to ask you at the barbecue, but...well...”

Steve's explanation petered out. Bucky sat there in stunned silence for a long moment, so much so that Steve seemed to get a little nervous, and added hastily, “I—I mean, I don't see you as  _ less  _ because you're an amputee, and you don't have to say yes. Tony's just trying to help, you know, in his own weird way. He builds all sorts of crazy things and...and...yeah, that's it. He's been bugging me for a while to ask you, so I figured now would be a good time. Plus, he won't be able to work on it a few months from now—his alpha won't let him. It's not a  _ now or never  _ deal, it's more like  _ a now or at least a year from now if you change your mind later _ ...thing.”

“Wait, I've heard about something like this,” Bucky said, blinking hard as he tried to remember. “Wasn't it Stark Industries that had that program to dona—wait, your buddy Tony is Tony Stark?  _ That  _ Tony Stark?!”

“Uh...yeah,” Steve replied, somewhat evasively, almost like he was embarrassed to have such a famous friend. 

“And you didn't tell me  _ because? _ ”

“I wasn't trying to keep it from you,” Steve pointed out, his tone a touch on the defensive side, before he added, “it just...sort of...never came up, unless you count our ferris wheel ride at the carnival.” Steve paused to laugh, and Bucky smiled, pleased that he'd remembered. “I kind of wanted to surprise you at the barbecue, but that plan kind of got shot in the face.”

“Oh.” Bucky felt himself deflate a little as his thoughts rounded back to the offer in question. “I...can I think about it?” Bucky asked uncertainly. “This is pretty big. Even if it's a donation, I really gotta think on it. And why can't he work on it a few months from now?”

“Oh, he's...he's pregnant,” Steve explained, smiling with a quiet sort of excitement as he said it. “Not showing yet, but his scans say it's going to be a girl.”

“Steve, that's great! Good for him,” Bucky proclaimed, surprising himself by how much he meant it. “A little friend for Sadie, maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve agreed, forcing out a laugh that sounded to Bucky an awful lot like relief. “So...date?”

“Yeah, date,” Bucky agreed, squeezing Steve's hand once before he pulled the limb back and tugged Steve into a hug.

 

~*~

 

The thoughts of bionic limbs and date nights carried Bucky all the way to Becca's house after he at last dropped Steve off. When he pulled up, he spotted Sadie out in the front yard playing some sort of complicated tag game with Lola, while Becca was sitting on the front stoop nursing a cup of coffee, with Sadie and Lola's backpacks resting next to her, clearly untouched since they got home from school. 

“ _ Daddy! _ ” Sadie cried excitedly when she saw him pull up, and waited for him to come to a full stop before she raced over to the car and he rolled down the window. The instant he did so she cried out, “you smell like  _ burgers! _ ”

Bucky choked on air as he burst out laughing. He bowed over the steering wheel, positively howling, while Sadie hopped up and down, presumably trying to see if there were any drive-thru bags in the car, while Becca gathered up Sadie's backpack, and began to carry it over. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said when he'd finally recovered, “me and Steve had burgers after our meeting with the doctor.”

“Did you bring me one?”

“Not this time, honey.”

“Oh.” Sadie paused, her expression thoughtful. “Can we have burgers for supper?”

Normally, Bucky may have said no. Burgers for two meals was an awful lot of red meat in one day, and generally he tried to keep his and Sadie's meals on the healthy side, with fast food as a rare treat. 

However, today Bucky couldn't be bothered to keep it healthy. He felt too  _ good _ and too  _ hopeful  _ for what was to come in the days and weeks ahead of him.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “Get in, princess. Let's go to Micky D's.”

“ _ Yaaaaaay! _ ” Sadie cried as she tugged open the back door, hopping in, and stopped only when Becca held out her bag in a silent reminder and she opened the door again to accept it and thank her aunt. 

With his giddy and chattering daughter in the back seat, Bucky sped off. At the first stop light, he pulled out his phone, and shot off a quick text.

 

**Bucky – 5:15PM**

_ Meet us at McD? 10 mins? _

**Steve – 5:16PM**

_ On my way. _

 

Bucky smiled, feeling very much like his family was finally coming together. 

The light turned green, and they drove on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Though it'd be virtually impossible for someone to know this early in the real world what the sex of one's baby would be, I like to think that Tony has a super-duper fancy ultrasound machine, which he probably built himself. I just didn't have an opportunity to include mention of it here.


	18. Second Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for November 19th. Sorry for the slight delay!
> 
> Note: The French restaurant name in this chapter translates to “Head to Tail”
> 
> **Formatting Fixed 10/11/2k19**

Chapter Eighteen – The Second Date

 

Bucky shifted from foot to foot nervously as Steve pulled up. The man had implied that tonight would be a bit fancier than their first official date had been, and Bucky had reluctantly donned his only suit for the occasion.

Technically, it was his _funeral suit_ , but he wasn't about to tell Steve that.

Steve arrived with a huge bouquet of pink roses that made Bucky blush furiously. It was definitely over-the-top, and Bucky didn't quite know what to make of it. Was Steve actually trying to _buy_ his affection? That hardly sounded like the Steve Bucky knew _at_ _all._

Bucky passed the bouquet to Becca, who was staying to watch Sadie, and she eyed him with a look that Bucky knew well— _something's up._

“If he tries to propose— _run_ ,” Becca murmured, which caused Bucky to snicker. Sure, he was determined to try and fix things with Steve, but if he tried that, Bucky would _definitely_ run.

“Ready to go?” Steve asked when Bucky turned back around to face him, and he nodded.

“Let's get—let's go,” he amended, realizing almost too late that saying, _let's get this over with_ probably wouldn't go over well.

Steve led him down to the car where Bea was waiting, and Steve drove them into town, stopping at a fancy French restaurant called _T_ _ê_ _te_ _à_ _Queue_.

_I really hope they have an English menu_ , Bucky thought dubiously as he gazed up at the restaurant's sign. He knew how these upscale restaurants sometimes operated, and in the name of authenticity, often omitted English on their menus.

Inside, they were greeted by a stuffy host in a fancy suit, who looked down at Bea with a look of disgust on his face until he checked the reservations, and the expression vanished. Bucky supposed there was a note about Steve's need for a service dog, but even without it Bea's vest wasn't exactly inconspicuous. The idea that the host entirely ignored the vest just to glare at Bea entirely rubbed Bucky the wrong way, but he had no idea how to address it, in particular when Steve appeared determined to act as though he hadn't noticed.

The pair were led to a booth and offered a complimentary bottle of red along with their menus. Thankfully, the menus were in English, though that wasn't exactly helpful as Bucky began to peruse the menu items.

“I'm thinking of starting with one of their entrées,” Steve said from behind his own menu. “Then some kind of main course. What do you think?”

“Sounds good,” Bucky said as he read over the menu, and picked out what he wanted, encouraged by the fact that Steve appeared as out of his depth as Bucky felt. Sure, Bucky knew stuff about food, but definitely not on this scale.

When the waiter arrived, Bucky ordered an entrée of grilled fish in olive oil, while Steve asked for something called pike _quenelles—_ whatever that was. As for their mains, Bucky stuck with a simple request for bouillabaisse, while Steve asked for sweetbreads and crayfish, which caused Bucky to immediately choke on his wine.

“Steve, are you _sure_ about that?” he asked as he dabbed his face with a napkin. The waiter had pressed his lips together, both as though he was trying to keep himself from laughing, and like he'd witnessed this dire mistake dozens of times before.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, blinking innocently at Bucky as he shrugged. “Sweet-bread. What's so weird about bread?”

Part of Bucky wanted to tell Steve that sweetbreads had nothing to do with actual bread, but a larger, slightly more evil part of his mind wanted to see this play out. He waved at Steve as though to say, _do what you like_ , and went back to his wine.

“Did I just order something weird?” Steve asked uncertainly, and Bucky did his best to keep from laughing.

“No, course not,” Bucky replied innocently. “Like you said—there's nothing weird about bread.” He sipped his wine again, using the pause in order to find a new topic, or he was likely to give up the game. “I contacted Tony, by the way. I'll be seeing him next week for more info on this cyborg arm-thing. I tried to offer to pay for it, but he didn't really like that.”

“Yeah, he wouldn't,” Steve replied, smiling a little. “So you want to go through with it, then?”

“I did some Googling, and it looks like everyone who got limbs from him really liked them, but I don't want to make up my mind until I talk to Tony myself,” Bucky said distractedly, sipping his wine again, while Steve nodded, mirroring him and drinking a little of the wine.

“That's a good idea,” Steve agreed when he set his glass back down. “I mean, Tony's a genius, but he's...” Steve trailed off, and laughed. “He's got a challenging personality.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Bucky asked, half teasing, and Steve smiled.

“A bit of both, honestly. Once an argument between us nearly caused a civil war between us and our friends.”

Bucky laughed, throwing his head back, and Steve smiled again, a warmth in his expression that made Bucky feel tingly all over.

As he calmed, Bucky caught sight of their waiter returning with their entrées. In a strange way, the sight of him made Bucky feel a sense of knowledge—no, _truth_. Bucky now knew with absolute certainty that despite the hardship they were experiencing right now, in the end, they really would be all right.

 

~*~

 

Their entrée passed without issue. Bucky's fish was delicious, while Steve seemed to have ascended to some sort of cheese heaven with his quenelles. A few times the alpha even seemed to forget that they were in public, and crammed a few of the fish dumplings into his mouth whole without a single care in the world.

Bucky didn't have much to say during that course. In part, he didn't really trust himself to say much of anything—Bucky was looking forward to Steve's reaction to his main a little too much, and he worried that if he got too caught up in conversation he might spoil the game and blurt out what sweetbreads actually _were._

And as their plates were cleared and they waited on their main, Bucky stuck to safe subjects—Sadie, Steve's art, Becca's latest drama— _anything_ to avoid the subject of food.

It was all worth it however when the waiter reappeared, placing an elegant bowl of fish stew in front of Bucky, and the sweetbreads in front of Steve, who looked both confused and a little alarmed by the lack of any wheat by-product on the plate in front of him.

“Um...” Steve began, visibly doing his best to be polite, despite the organ meat that was resting on his plate. “I didn't...I mean...I ordered, um, sweetbread?”

“Yes, sir,” the waiter replied, his lips curled slightly in an amused smile. “Sweetbreads with crayfish sauce—our sweetbreads are of veal, and as with all sweetbreads, it is a combination the thymus gland in the throat of the animal, as well as the pancreas.”

“ _Pancreas?!_ ” Steve sputtered, just as Bucky lost control of himself, and howled with laughter. In response to the sound, Steve whirled around to Bucky, his eyes wide with horror. “You _knew_?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied with a teasing smirk. “I mean...I _almost_ told you, but I couldn't resist seeing your face...”

“You are an _asshole_ ,” Steve replied, his indignation seeming to fade as fast as it had come as he laughed, and offered the waiter a smile. “Um, thanks. I'm sure it's...great.”

“Do you wish to order something else, sir?” the waiter asked, doing a much better job than Bucky at reigning in his amusement, though his eyebrows raised in surprise when Steve shook his head.

“I'm not gonna waste food,” the alpha replied. “I ordered these... _things,_ so I'm gonna eat it.”

The waiter appeared dubious about Steve's sentiment, but when the alpha didn't budge he nodded his head as he said, “please enjoy your meals,” then departed.

“You know, not being wasteful _can_ have its limits,” Bucky offered as he dug into his bouillabaisse, extracting a piece of mussel from the shell while Steve continued to stare at his own meal, at a loss for how to begin. “I don't think they'd be _that_ upset if you sent it back.”

“I'm not gonna waste it,” Steve insisted stubbornly, and Bucky fought the urge to roll his eyes as he began to eat. If Steve really wanted to eat sweetbreads, then Bucky wasn't going to stop him.

Steve tucked into his meal, cutting a paper-thin slice of the pancreas, and dousing it with as much of the crayfish sauce as his fork would hold. Bucky paused to watch, genuinely curious to see if Steve would like it or not.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Steve said with a laugh, his tone telling Bucky that he wasn't truly upset, just embarrassed. “Makes me feel like a pitcher during the bottom of the ninth or something.”

“Fine,” Bucky replied, chuckling a little. “If it helps, we can share my bouillabaisse if you really don't like it.”

“You're not gonna tell me to eat it and like it?”

“No,” Bucky said, snorting a little. “Mostly 'cause you're not five and it's not broccoli.”

“Good to know,” Steve replied as he laughed, and his eyes fell down to the tiny morsel on his fork. He breathed out, like a diver preparing to jump, and stuffed it into his mouth.

Despite Steve's request that Bucky not watch, he couldn't help himself. The most amusing part, at least to Bucky was the way Steve's eyes lit up with surprise, as though he liked it more than he expected to.

“Well?” Bucky ventured, “how is it?”

“Different,” Steve said as he swallowed, and moved to cut another piece. “I mean...you can definitely tell it's organ meat, it's got that iron-y taste to it, but it's not awful. Want to try it?”

“I think I'm good,” Bucky said with a laugh as he went back to his own meal. “But I'm glad you don't hate it.”

The meal went fairly well following Steve's sweetbreads misadventure. For dessert, Bucky requested coffee and an assortment of macarons for the pair to share, which Steve mixed up with the more American coconut macaroon, and appeared confused when the platter arrived, but thankfully with none of the horror he'd portrayed over his main course.

“Okay these are really damn good, even if they look nothing like what I thought they'd be,” Steve said, laughing warmly as he bit into one of the raspberry macarons. “I'm glad you ordered, if it was me...we'd probably end up with something weird, like that duck thing on the menu...”

“You mean the daçquoise?” Bucky asked with a laugh, and Steve nodded. “Baby, that's just a gigantic version of these, more or less. Daçquoise is just this big meringue cake-thing with almonds.”

“Oh.” Steve blushed furiously. “Remind me to not say anything about food ever again.”

“Next time we'll go to a burger joint or something, and I'll have them make a sweetbreads burger _just_ for you.”

Steve barked a laugh, and Bucky smirked at him.

_Oh yeah,_ Bucky thought, _things are definitely getting better._

 

~*~

 

After they finished their meal, Steve moved to asked for the whole cheque, and when Bucky protested, Steve split the bill as easily as breathing—like it was no big deal.

Bucky liked that easy acquiescence to something that would have made Bucky uncomfortable. It was a fancy restaurant after all, and the total bill was _huge_. And yet, Steve did not feel the need to pull a domineering alpha move, and instead just let it go.

Bucky liked that—it reinforced the knowledge of who Steve really was, and it also reminded him—yet again—that Steve was definitely _not_ Brock.

It felt good to think of that. Steve had been so tense all night, letting loose only a handful of times, and more than once Bea got up to rest her head on her charge's lap, clearly having sensed Steve's anxiety.

 

Out in the parking lot, Bucky made a point of taking Steve's hand. The alpha jumped, but his fingers tensed over Bucky's in the same instant, then he smiled at Bucky brilliantly.

“I missed this, you know,” Steve said softly. “I mean, the kissing and other stuff was great, but just this...holding your hand. My mind goes quiet when I'm with you.”

“How quiet is it when I do _this_?” Bucky asked, his voice mirroring Steve's gentle tone, and stepped closer to the alpha. Bucky heard Steve's breath still, and he smiled as he leant in close and kissed his alpha.

In that moment, Bucky knew nothing but the sensation of Steve's lips on his. He wanted to shout with joy, he wanted to weep, and he wanted to run and hide.

Most of all, Bucky could not help but think, _God, I've missed this_.

 

~*~

 

Bucky and Steve stayed out a little longer than they'd intended, sitting in the car like a pair of teenagers just so that they could make out. It was Bucky who reluctantly broke the moment as he told Steve that he needed to get home to see Sadie.

Steve didn't protest, and they drove back in silence. The air between them was still vaguely awkward, but decidedly less so.

“I know that this doesn't mean we're magically better,” Steve said when they hit a red light. “I want it to be, but we've still got a lot of shit to work through—I just want you to know that I know that. And...and I don't want you to feel obligated to see this through just 'cause we made out a few hundred times in the last hour. I only want to keep seeing you if you want to keep seeing me.”

“Steve, can you pull over?” Bucky said in response, and Steve whirled around to him, startled by the sudden request, though he seemed to relax a little when he saw that Bucky didn't appear to be emotionally or physically hurt in some way. “We need to talk before we get back.”

“Oh, uh, okay...” Steve replied, sounding utterly confused, but obliged, and when the light turned green, he turned into a strip mall parking lot and shut off the engine before he turned back to Bucky. “Is everything okay?”

“Baby, you need to stop doing this thing where you're so uncertain, and you try to dictate my feelings to me,” Bucky said, keeping his voice gentle, but firm. “I don't know if you _mean_ to do it, but when you talk about us, you've reminded me like a _million_ times that I don't have any obligation to you.”

“Is that...wrong?” Steve asked in a small voice. He sounded so lost and confused, like a little child left on their own for the first time. “I just...I feel so _bad_ about what I did, and honestly I don't even understand why you're even giving me another chance at all...”

“See, _that_ right there is what has me worried,” Bucky said, his voice almost pleading as he reached out for Steve. “If you're so convinced that we're doomed to fail, how can we succeed? You always sound so convinced that I'm gonna bail...have you thought about how that might make _me_ feel?”

“But...I...I thought I was doing the right thing?” Steve replied, forming his statement as a question while he blinked at Bucky with confusion. “I—I mean...I was trying to help.”

“I know, babe, but it's not really having the effect you probably want. I mean, I'm guessing you're saying it to be supportive, and put my needs before your own and stuff like that?” Bucky paused, and Steve nodded in agreement. “Okay, but when you say stuff like that it makes me feel like you don't even want me.”

“ _What_?” Steve sputtered. “I...how? Why does it make you feel that way?”

“Think about it, Steve,” Bucky said, his voice almost pleading. “ _You don't need to be here, you can leave whenever you want, are you sure that this is what you want?_ Those kinds of statements make it sound like you don't want me around. And...I know you mean well, but that stuff hurts.” He paused, regarding Steve for a moment longer before he asked, “you're still having solo sessions with your regular therapist, right? That Fury guy?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied, nodding a little. “Think I should talk about this with him?”

“I think you should,” Bucky agreed, moving in to kiss Steve lightly. “I _want_ to be with you—you know me, I wouldn't put up with your bullshit if I didn't really want to. We can talk about it more with Strange when we see him, but I think it'd also help to talk about it one-on-one too, you know, just for you.”

“Okay,” Steve said as he leant in to return Bucky's kiss. “And...I'm sorry if I made you feel unwanted, sweetheart. I...I care about you a whole lot, and I don't want to hurt you.”

_Not on purpose, anyway,_ Bucky thought, his mind jumping back to the mark, but he knew better than to mention it—that wouldn't be helpful for either of them.

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky said instead, “let's go home.”

Steve nodded, appearing a little dazed by their abrupt discussion, but voiced no sort of protest as he started the ignition again, and they drove off.

As they went, Bucky fiddled with a loose thread on his suit jacket, and hoped that Steve would take his advice, and talk this out with his therapist.

Bucky shifted his gaze to Steve. His brow was furrowed, and his expression was pensive, rather than angry, like he was determined to fix this no matter what it took.

The expression was reassuring to see, and it brought a faint smile to Bucky's face.

He eased back more comfortably in the passenger seat, and turned his attention to the window, watching the world pass them by.


	19. Please Read

While at the beginning of the month I joked about missing update times due to nanowrimo, sadly it is something now much more serious that is stopping my writing.

In mid October my aunt went into the hospital for a fairly routine surgery, and now she is being moved to comfort care. The doctors say she could die any day.

In light of this devastating news, all my current WIPs are going on a one-month long hiatus. I hope you guys understand. 

I hope it won't be longer than that, and I do intend to work on the updates when I have time/when I feel up to it, but for the next few weeks I just need to be with my family.

Thanks for your understanding,

xoxo jbankai89


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